In the Darkness of the Day
by Lilan
Summary: This focuses on Lothiriel mainly... but there will be her dear cousin Faramir, who we all adore, too, and Eowyn, and the painful process of maturing and learning about life. Check it! It's nearing the end, by the way... COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

_I must say that the idea of bringing Thiri to Minas Tirith was shamelessly borrowed from Evendim (Snowdrops and Bluebells), though I view her slightly differently. Nevertheless, thanks, Evendim!_

**Chapter 1**

"You will take care of yourself, will you not, Thíri?"

My father's voice was full of concern, and it made me regret my foolishness for a thousandth time. But – what was the use of regrets now?

I sighed as I remembered our argument back in Dol Amroth.

* * *

"I will not stay here alone!"

"Thíri, be reasonable. I cannot take you to the very heart of the war! This is no pleasure-ride, girl!"

"I do not see it as a pleasure-ride! And will you stop thinking I am a child!"

"Will _you_ stop behaving like one!"

We stared at each other, fuming with rage. At a distance, I caught sight of Elphir, frowning at me disapprovingly.

With a sigh, our father forced himself into a degree of calmness and tried to reason with me again.

"Lothíriel, it is dangerous. The trip itself is not as easy as you would think, and in the City, we will most probably be away all the time, possibly fighting, and this is something you have never seen… and may you live so until the end of your days, child! I will not have any time to look after you there."

I was aflame in seconds. "I was not bloody aware I required looking after! When you are here you hardly notice me!"

"Will you watch your mouth, young lady!"

"I will not! I will go to Minas Tirith, alone if I have to!"

"Better take her with us, Father," it was Elphir's voice. "But, Thíri, you will have to stay with Uncle Denethor for most of the time. And there will likely be no one to escort you home if you get… bored."

There they were again, playing their proven game of 'bad Father' and 'good big brother'. It had worked before, I must say. But I was too far gone this time.

"I do not mind Uncle, I can handle him if I need to. And I assure you I will not whine and beg anyone to take me home."

"Fine, you wanted it," there was slight menace in Father's tone. "I am taking you with me, but there will be certain conditions, and I mean it, Lothíriel."

"Fine," I said defiantly. "What conditions?" (I omitted a couple of quite unladylike epithets borrowed from my brother Erchirion, who was a sailor.)

Father eyed me with a very calm expression.

"You are aware of a war going on by now. I cannot allow my daughter to be idle when under protection of her Lord and Uncle. I will ask the Steward to appoint some duties to you, so that you are not bored with in the course of your stay. And," his eyes narrowed, and I could see he was truly angry, "you will do whatever is demanded from you!"

I was sure Father also wanted to add a couple of very hearty expressions. By the look on his face, I could already hear him asking Uncle to appoint me to the cleaning of latrines.

* * *

I had barely seen my Uncle when we arrived, apart from him welcoming us to his City. He looked awful, so aged and weary, all his words coming as if from a far place where he had retreated after Boromir's death. From somewhere deep he still recovered a weak smile for me when he said, "I am glad to see at least one person with whom I do not have to talk about the War. And a pretty young lady, too." But we never talked. He seemed to be reluctant to go into private conversation. I wondered if he feared me expressing my condolences. Well, he needn't have, for I had always felt remarkably foolish when faced with the task and tried to avoid it as best I could. As did I try to avoid grieving people. What could I say to them except those stale words you were supposed to mouth? Elphir once said I had spent too much time with a pack of brothers to learn proper civil language.

As to my duties, it was not latrine-cleaning, after all. It was decided that the most ladylike job in the City was to help the healers, so there I finally landed, among strange-smelling herbs and sticky liquids, among tired lean men with downcast eyes and formidable matrons who, I was sure, were kept specifically to intimidate the poor bedridden soldiers so that they would not dare get wounded again in the future.

I knew little of the affairs of state. There were councils…endless councils, and whispers of the Steward's strange conduct, and, finally, Elphir came to see me to the Houses of Healing, white with helpless rage.

"Do you know what that damn old fool has done?" he hissed.

"By this, I deem you mean Uncle," I sighed.

"Uncle indeed! I am happy he is no blood relation of mine, Thíri. Our grandparents must have been mad or temporarily blinded when they consented to his marriage to Aunt."

"Please sit down and tell me what happened," I dragged him to a small couch, for his agitated pacing irritated me.

Hardly had I made him sit, he sprang to his feet and spat, "He sent Faramir back to Osgiliath!"

I blinked at him several times, not quite understanding what was going on. "So…Faramir was here? What a pity I could not see him! It is strange he would not come and visit me, he has always been a dear. But then, it is war, so I should not take offence."

Elphir shook his head in exasperation. "Sometimes I forget that you are not quite aware of our situation, Thíri."

That angered me again. "Will you then tell me about it, to make me aware!"

He sighed, then sat down again and took both my hands in his. "Sending anyone there equals to giving him a death sentence, sister. There have been dispatches… Well, it is a long story, but believe me, he is in grave danger."

I took my hands away, surprised a bit at the gesture. I was more accustomed to being punched or slapped on the shoulder rather than kissed and babied, at least at the conscious age.

"And no one protested? Surely there were people in the council who understood…"

"Ha!" he snorted. "If only you have seen him! The man is mad, no doubt."

"Then all the more someone should have intervened!"

Elphir took a deep breath. "Yes, I think you are right, but if Faramir himself did not oppose the Steward's will, then who would? There is something strange going on here, Thíri. I was so eager to talk to Faramir… and he behaved as if he was avoiding me! And he and Denethor… I know theirs is not the easiest relationship, but earlier they at least tried to mend something, and now they seem miles apart. Faramir seems not to care a whit about what is going to happen to him. This is so wrong, Thíri!"

We sat in silence until one of the healers came for me and scolded me badly for having left the brew I was supposed to watch unattended. I lowered my eyes and tried to look sheepish. By the grin on Elphir's face, I could say that he at least was not fooled.

"Well, little Princess, serves you right," he laughed, kissing me goodbye. "I hate to say it, but we told you…"

He ducked away from my none too gentle hand and left, still laughing.

* * *

The battle was still going on. I had spent all the day on the walls, ignoring the Warden's strictest orders to stay inside and give a hand with the wounded. Not that I loathed to attend to them, but, once I peered over and saw the armies below, I simply could not leave. Later, I was thankful it was far and dark enough to make it impossible for me to discern individual soldiers. From up there, it looked like a messy storm over the sea, and that was familiar. I saw the bright ranks of the Rohirrim wash over the black mass of the Orc armada… and I was astonished at my own emotions. They seemed to have brought a powerful ray of light with them; they were riding towards us, and the only obstacle was the army of the Black Land, so it had to be destroyed. My heart flared up with grim delight; I was truly happy to imagine the black bodies being trampled down into the very earth they had been sent to conquer. In a childish gesture, I leaned over the wall and shouted a curse, and then spat in their direction.

The Warden caught me in the act.

"Lothíriel!" he thundered. I jumped at the sound.

"I think I pointed out that I wanted every spare hand in the Houses! Can you imagine how many people need help right now? Or do you enjoy watching only heroic deeds, not their aftermath?"

"But sir…" I felt ashamed and angered at the same time.

He grabbed my arm with his strong long fingers, his eyes flashing with anger. "Had it been for me to choose, I would have never consented to allowing any noble's daughter to work in this place. I have no need for a spoiled, squeamish, 'refined' slip of a girl whose cares dwell among fine robes only! But once you are here, and I promised your father, whom I hold in high respect, to keep an eye on you, you will do what your duty as a nurse requires!"

I stood gaping like a fish out of water. The storm of emotions rendered me speechless for a while. How could he say things like that? Did he not know who my father was, and what he would do if he heard anyone speaking thus of his only daughter? And… 'a spoiled, squeamish, 'refined' slip of a girl'!

For a moment, I thought I might strike him; then I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me short by turning me round and shoving me in front of him towards the Houses. "My lady," his voice held only mockery, "you will have time to honour me with a piece of my mind when this all ends. Meanwhile, direct all your wrathful energy at doing something useful. Looking after your cousin, for example."

I turned abruptly. "My…my cousin?" I gasped.

His eyes suddenly filled with sadness and compassion. "You do not know yet… I hate to bring you this news, child. Your cousin, Lord Faramir, has taken an arrow wound and now lies in our care. His condition is…very grave. I thought that the presence of a relation might do him good."

"And…his father? Where is he?" I asked, then cringed at the look of sorrow in his eyes. I would have preferred anything to it, even the deep disapproval and contempt of just minutes before.

"Died."

"How?" I mouthed, unsure I produced any sound at all.

There was hesitation written on his face, and finally he said, "They say he took his own life. But you must understand, lady, that I am telling you this only because you are family. I trust you will not spread further what can prove only a rumour."

"I will not," I whispered, swallowing hard. "Take me to Faramir, please."

* * *

He was lying absolutely still, and his face was flushed. I rushed to his side and found that his breathing was very shallow and uneven, coming in short gasps from parched lips. I had never seen anyone gravely ill in my whole life, my family being a picture of health and lucky enough not to be injured in battle or accident. Here in the Houses so far I had not been asked to attend to the wounded, my help was mostly wanted at the kitchens or with making some brews. This was, in fact, my first encounter with the war.

"You said he had an arrow wound," I looked at the Warden questioningly.

"So he does," he said. "But it is not the chief concern here. It is Black Breath, I fear."

I sat on the bedside, clapping my hand to my mouth. That malady I had heard of.

"You mean… he will die?" I finally managed.

"Unless some miracle happens to come to our aid. There are more people slowly fading from it."

"How many?" I was surprised to feel any interest to someone other than my cousin; or was it some mad desire to keep talking, or to keep my mind occupied?

"Many more than I would like," he jested grimly. "Now, stay here with him and, should anything change, for better or for worse, call for me."

"Will he awake?" I asked, taking his hot hand into mine.

The Warden shook his head. "I do not think so. But you can try talking to him. He might hear your voice wherever he is now. You cannot bring him back, but you can try and make the way easier for him."

"The way? What are you saying?"

"The way to the afterworld…if such exists."

When he was gone, I stared numbly at the closed door, his words coming to me as if through a thick cloth, slowly making their way to my head… I then turned to Faramir and reached to stroke his face, then took my hand away with a jerk, then stood up and walked a couple of hesitant paces.

_I should have stayed at home. I should not be here_, my mind screamed. _This is not true, all of it, this is not me, and the man in bed cannot be Faramir, and there is no war… Oh, please, I want home. I do not want him to die, and I do not want to be here should he awake, to tell him that his father is dead. My father, and my brothers… why do they all have to be away… why do I have to shake all over thinking about their fate, imagining them carried on biers…_

I tried to banish the horrible picture of my mind, tried to replace it with the one of the glorious ride of the Rohirrim, but it would return, and I would see every line on my father's face, I would imagine their bodies, mutilated and pitiful… I felt my stomach rising to my throat and wanted to throw up, but I was denied even that relief.

I rushed to the window and opened it. How I longed for a gust of wind to cool my face, but it never came. Instead, there was the ever-present swirl of darkness looming over the eastern sky. I had never truly understood the people's fear of it. As a child, I had never feared darkness, would easily sleep alone in my chamber when I was barely four, but today I suddenly realised the difference. There, at home, darkness was a friend. It would help my tired eyes to shut when my mouth would stubbornly say I was not sleepy; it would conceal me allowing later to jump at one of my brothers and frighten them; it would give such a warm shroud to me and a young page who gave me my first kiss… It had always been a trusted ally at home; here, it meant something evil and stifling, it tasted of rottenness, and it made me shiver with a helpless and desperate fear I for once could not master.

I returned to Faramir, snatched his hand and lowered myself onto the bed beside him.

"Please awake, Faramir," I whined, hating myself for doing so; I would die from shame if he really awoke. "I am so afraid…"

But he was silent, and I squeezed my eyes shut and silently promised to be the most exemplary of all the ladies of Gondor, if only my family return to me. I _will attend to the wounded, and scrub floors, and I will never ever argue with Father, and no one will have a reason to call me '__a spoiled, squeamish, 'refined' slip of a girl', but I do not want this deadly cloud to take us all. Please, I… I will die if that be needed._

_TBC_

* * *

_There you are, I am keeping my promises. Will you keep yours and review this one as well?_

_Yours,_

_Lilan_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I awoke feeling a wonderful sensation of someone's warm arms around me. That someone was carrying me, and, for once, I did not want to pull away. I felt unexpectedly safe and comfortable, so comfortable that I allowed myself to smile and snuggle close to the broad chest.

"Now that is a nice surprise!" my father's voice teased. I was wide awake in an instant.

He was laughing quietly at my astonished face.

"Thíri, you are growing up, thank goodness. I rather expected you to fight madly to be set on the floor, but here I see a daughter I have been dreaming about for my whole life!"

I hit him on the chest indignantly, striving to stand on my own feet.

"Put me down!"

He sighed in mock relief. "My girl, finally back. I was starting to feel concerned. They might have shown me to a wrong room."

I shook my head, trying to remember what had happened before. Then, in a horrible rush, it all came again, the battle, the rebuke from the Warden, Faramir…

"It is over?" I gasped, grabbing him by the shoulders. "The battle? Is it? And…and Faramir… no, I know that, he must be dead by now… Where is Elphir, is he all right? Father?"

He put a hand over my lips, blocking all further speech. "So many questions, girl! One at a time, fine?" I nodded obediently. He gave me a mock frown again. "I wonder what the healers have done to you. If they just gave you some potion, I would dearly love to have a barrel of that when back at home."

"Father!"

"On second thought, no, it seems too weak to deal with you," he went on nonchalantly.

Finally, he took pity on me. "All right, Thíri, there you are. The battle is over, and – we won! Elphir is safe and whole, though he banged his head on the door mere minutes ago and will likely have a big bruise."

"Oh…" I was lost for words, an occurrence very rare. Then another thought hit me. "You did not say anything about Faramir. How…how…does he still…live?"

"He did when I last saw him," my father said softly. "I found you lying asleep beside him, holding his hand… but he still breathed."

I sighed deeply. It was all as I wanted – almost all. My father and brother were unharmed, the battle had been over, and our armies were victorious, and the Darkness had not prevailed yet now… I remembered my frightened promise and wondered at how scared I must have been to say such foolish things, if only in my mind, to wish to die. But Faramir, why did he have to perish just when things were taking a turn for the better? It seemed so cruelly unfair on him, so untimely. Even the manner of his death – not really in battle, but the slow fading, all the while fighting for breath, wandering where none could reach…

I came to with a shudder.

"You are tired," my father observed.

"Not really," I protested. "Is there no way to save Faramir, Father?"

He shrugged helplessly. "The Lord Aragorn might help, though I very much doubt he will have the time. He himself is so weary after the ordeals he has had to face."

"Who is Lord Aragorn?" The name did not ring a bell.

"He is the Heir of Isildur himself," my father replied.

"No!" I took a step back, astonished beyond any measure. "The King has returned?"

Father just nodded solemnly, and, as was my wont, I had to spoil the pleasure for him. (Why, I wonder now?) "I cannot but be just a little bit glad for poor Uncle. He would have a fit were he here for the news! Good for him to be dead."

Father shook his head sorrowfully. "And you said you liked him. Really, Lothíriel, sometimes I wonder if I have been rather a poor father to you. Can you show at least a slightest grain of respect for the dead?"

"Not if they send my cousins to slaughter prior to their death," I retorted angrily. "Can I see Faramir? You should not have taken me from him. The Warden said I had to stay. The warden himself I hate, but I was going to do that for Faramir. Better me at his side than those monstrous matrons, one could easily mistake them for some Orcs of Mordor."

For a while, Father just stared at me in indignation, then suddenly laughed and threw an arm round my shoulders.

"It is good that I brought you here, Thíri," he said. "You have just given me a wonderful sense of home-coming. It is nice to see that certain things will never change."

* * *

There seemed to be a whole pack of people in Faramir's room. Mithrandir, of course, and the Halfling, Pippin, I guessed, and a Tower Guard hugging a small boy, healers and nurses… _Ha, all the talk about a sick man needing peace_, I thought. There was a pleasant scent about the room; I involuntarily took a step forward, drinking it in, all the more welcome after the stifling sensation of the hours before. Well, when I come to think of it now, it was not a scent, just a freshness that made my nostrils widen (my brothers would tease me mercilessly for this unconscious habit). I squeezed past others, earning an indignant hiss from Ioreth, a lady who could talk you to death if you let her, and finally saw Faramir.

He was lying on his bed still, but now he was awake, and seemed to be exchanging some words with the tall dark man, wearing rather shabby clothes. I noticed that Faramir was now rather pale, even with his suntan, his face still sweaty, dark shadows under his eyes; but he was smiling, smiling an almost childish smile of joy and relief, and when I wriggled nearer, I saw that the man was returning the smile with his own, though his face was almost ashen with fatigue.

He said something else, very quietly, then gave Faramir's hand a gentle squeeze and made to leave. In the doorway, he stopped and said, "There are much too many people here that a sick man can endure. I would ask you to leave now. The Lord Faramir is safe, he only needs a little peace and quiet to recover from both the shock and the wound."

The Tower Guard and the boy looked very reluctant to comply, but there was a ring of metal in the man's voice, so they had to do what was asked of them, or rather ordered.

The man's gaze rested on me. He was handsome, even I had to admit that. He had black hair with a little grey in it, and his eyes were light grey, very keen, even piercing. I looked down to his hands; they were nice hands, with long lean fingers, not too much disfigured by the sword; I could easily imagine him playing a harp, and then his eyes would be dreamy and soft…

I felt slightly ashamed with these thoughts. I had guessed by that time that the man was the famed Heir to the throne of Gondor, and there I was, studying his hands and imagining stupid things… horrible, childish indeed. I straightened my back and said, "My lord, I think someone has to stay with the Lord Faramir and see to his needs. I, as his family, appear to be the most suitable one for the task."

I guess I did sound a bit haughty, for my father covered his eyes with his hand, as if to block out the horror. The King-to-be lowered his head; I suppose he did that to hide a smile. Finally, he spoke, in a rich and pleasant voice, "It occurs to me, lady, that the person the most suitable for the task would be a nurse, be she family or not."

I saw Father suppress a smile; indeed, everyone else seemed to be doing the same. _Oh, no_, I groaned inside. Why did I always have to make such a fool of myself? I was about to flee when another voice, a much weaker one, sounded from behind my back, "Please, let Lothíriel stay, my lord. Healer or not, she has already proved of use."

I turned around and met Faramir's eyes. He smiled at me encouragingly, then went on, "I am certain I felt her presence when I was…away, and it helped me greatly not to slip further into darkness. But for her, my lord Aragorn, you might have found it impossible to bring me back."

I felt I was blushing and hated both Faramir and myself for that. But I could not but feel grateful to him for helping me out of this rather awkward situation. And for using my full name rather than that childhood version. I lifted my head proudly and faced my father and the rest of them.

"All right," the man consented. "Stay here then, my lady. And look after the Lord Faramir well. He will still be needed here."

After they all finally departed, I was left eye to eye with my cousin. Suddenly, all my resolve faded. I felt my legs quake and sat down on his bed heavily. Faramir reached for my hand and took it gently.

"Feeling better?" he asked compassionately.

"Yes," I nodded. Was I not the one to ask such questions of him? "Would you like me to fetch something?"

"Please, I am so thirsty," he whispered.

I rushed to the jug on the small table, poured a cup of water from it and handed it to Faramir. He gave me an apologetic smile.

"I am sorry, Thíri, but I think you will have to help me drink. I doubt I can hold the cup."

I sat on the bed, holding the cup in my right hand, and he tried to prop himself up on the elbow of his good arm, but failed; he was too weak for that. Then, I attempted to slip my left hand behind his head to lift it a little. I was not skilled enough to perform the task successfully, so I tried to help myself with my other hand. To my great dismay, in doing this I somehow forgot I was holding the cup and spilled the entire contents onto the bed.

I groaned and wrung my hands helplessly. "Oh, Faramir, I am so sorry! That was so clumsy! I…I will try and fetch someone to change the bedclothes…" I stopped, realising it was I who was supposed to do the task. I groaned louder still and hid my face in my hands, feeling an overwhelming desire to weep.

Eventually, I decided against it. What was the use of tears now? I managed without them earlier, and the circumstances had been much graver then. With a sigh, I took my hands away from my face and saw that Faramir was laughing.

I felt all the blood rush to my face. "And what is so funny about this, may I ask?"

Faramir's face was almost as red as it had been when he was feverish. "It…it is good to have you here, Thíri," he gasped, exhausted. "You are so impossibly refreshing. With you here, I am sure I will recover my strength in no time."

"You are wet all over," I grumbled. "I think cleaning the latrines would suit me much better. But then, I would not be so refreshing, at least not literally."

Faramir burst out laughing again. I joined him shortly, for the whole situation did look rather amusing.

"I must go and find some bedclothes," I said finally.

"No, Thíri, it is not that bad. You spilled the water only on the blanket, and that is thick enough, so the water did not soak through."

I gave a relieved sigh. He smiled at me again, and then, all of a sudden, as if a cloud shadowed his face.

"Thíri," he started, hesitantly, his breathing ragged, "where is my father?"

* * *

This was worse than the wet blanket. This was worse than anything. I just stared at him, robbed of any speech, wishing for someone, anyone to be here to share this with me. My heart pounded so hard that in a moment I felt like one powerful throbbing something, my stomach tightened, my hands covered in sticky sweat. I wiped them on my skirt and noted they left dark moist smears on the lavender fabric.

I let my eyes wander around the room, not wanting to see the pleading look in Faramir's eyes, not for another moment. There was a crack in one of the walls… and some cobweb in the corner under the ceiling… and a dirty handkerchief someone had left under the table… My eyes stuck to it desperately, and I found myself wondering whom it had belonged to… maybe a wife sitting at her husband's bedside, wiping off her tears with the piece of linen…

"Thíri…" came the anguished whisper from the bed.

I turned to him abruptly, feeling my stomach go tighter still. "He is dead," I said, my voice shrill and rough.

He stared at me for a while, then turned his gaze to the handkerchief under the table. I saw him swallow painfully; then he closed his eyes and gave a shuddering sigh, close to a sob.

I watched as tears appeared from behind his lowered eyelids, rolling silently down his temples. Suddenly, surprising me with his strength, he rolled over to his uninjured side, buried his head in the pillow and shook all over with heart-rending sobs.

I was stunned, petrified, and I wanted my father to come and help me out. _Please, I do not know how to give comfort; I am afraid!_

As a one blind, I stumbled towards the exit, into the hallway, and fled.

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I was running and running along the hallway, seized by a panic I myself wondered to be feeling. Finally, I noticed a door slightly ajar. The little room looked like a forgotten pantry, dusty and smelling of old clothes; there I hid, closing the door after me. I sat down onto the dirty floor, drawing one of my knees close to my chest and hugging it with both arms.

Why did I always do the wrong things? Why could I not be just a girl like most of them, a little weepy at times, the one who know exactly what to say or do; why would I provoke only laughter by my actions? Not that I minded making people laugh. I had got used to that long before, but somehow it seemed wrong here, in Minas Tirith, where my amusing clumsiness and blunders were rather out of place.

Whose fault was it?

My family's? They had been protecting me for as long as I can remember, and doing that in the only manner known to noblemen: by keeping from me everything they considered inappropriate. I could not really say I had been babied much; no, not that, they were men, after all, and their love for me had been largely expressed in quite a gruff way. I could compare myself to a young sapling growing in a sunlit glade and surrounded by mighty oaks protecting me from any danger that was possibly lurking in the woods nearby. All I had known was the warm sunlight…

Or was the blame to be placed on me? Was it I who chose to see only sunlight, and not care about other things? Had it been my decision to keep the glassy shell around me when most have willingly shattered theirs? I was not a child anymore; in fact, many young women of my age had families of their own… and many had lost theirs. Why then was it so difficult for me when it came to feelings? To be more exact, to showing and sharing feelings?

The situation with Faramir came upon me full force then. Why on earth could I not at least stay with him? I am sure any other woman, or even man, would have embraced him tightly, stroked his back, said some comforting words – words that I did not know… For goodness' sake, he was my cousin! I certainly had some feelings for him, not so strong as for my brothers or my father…

My brothers? My father? Did I ever show my feelings for them adequately?

I snorted. Indeed. Even in my thoughts, I could not say 'love'.

"This is a common thing, my lady," a soft voice said from the doorway. I started, lifting my gaze and suddenly staring into the blue eyes of Éomer, who was to be crowned King of Rohan.

"Your pardon, my lord?"

"I heard someone speaking and took a liberty to come in," he explained. "You seem to have an unconscious habit of involuntarily saying what you are thinking."

_Yet another childish trait_, I thought wearily, but was too tired to feel any shame. "What did you mean when you said… what you said?"

He shrugged. "It is said that you should not say good things aloud, for fear of scaring them away. When you say you love someone, fate might envy you… and take that person away from you. Such is the way of things, always to fear to lose them that we hold dearest."

There was a sadness in his voice that could not be concealed.

"Did you lose anyone dear to you, my lord?" I nearly groaned at my own lack of tact, but he answered quite flatly, "Yes, my lady. Both my parents died when I was a child, then I lost my cousin, who was my closest friend, mere weeks ago, and yesterday's battle took the life of my uncle. Now the only family that I have left is my sister, and she has been sorely wounded as well."

I avoided looking him in the eye, feeling shame and a strange guilt, guilt at having my family while there were people like him and Faramir, people who had suffered such unbearable losses.

_What a damned fool you are, Lothíriel_, I thought. _Do you wish your family dead because others die?_

He held out a hand to help me up. "Come, lady, it is not fitting that the Prince's daughter be sitting on the floor." His eyes were smiling now, which suddenly made me feel bitter, instead of angry again. Yet another person seeing a frightened girl before him…

But I grabbed his hand (rather ungraciously) and he helped me to my feet.

"Shall I walk you to your chamber, my lady?" he offered.

I shook my head, pulling my hand out of his grasp. "No, thank you, I can manage on my own."

He sighed. "I was trying to show my good manners, lady, not doubting your abilities. But if you wish no courtesy from me, then so be it."

"So be it," I said defiantly. "Permit me to take your leave now, my lord."

He nodded curtly.

When I had already walked quite a few paces away, he called to me again. "My lady!"

I turned round. "Yes?"

"I was just thinking… you might find it amusing to talk to my sister. She is here, in these Houses. Something tells me you would like one another."

"I would not be so sure, my lord," I sneered. "Not many people happen to take an instant liking for me."

"Not many," he agreed, "but there are some, believe me."

He turned to leave, then added, "Her name is Éowyn."

* * *

Back at Faramir's door, I put my hand on the knob, unsure if I should enter at all. The memory of my earlier behaviour made me cringe with shame. Poor, poor Faramir… I was sure he despised me by now. I did not know how I could better handle the situation, now that I realised how unfeeling and heartless I must have seemed to him.

I opened the door just a bit and suddenly heard voices inside. One of them belonged to Faramir.

"…I cannot blame her. She must have been quite shocked by what she saw, I… I was not at my best, I think."

Another voice answered, and there was annoyance in it, "She could not expect anything different from a person who had just received such dreadful news, could she? She was not supposed to leave you, and that was what she promised me. If she had had the courage to tell you the tidings, she should have been here for you."

I recognised the voice as the Lord Aragorn's. Then Faramir spoke again, rather pleadingly, "But she is so young, and all this is something totally alien for her. Besides, I last saw her years ago, and cannot say we ever have been very close. I am simply a wounded man to her, in most respects a stranger, and quite a bit older, for that matter. I cannot demand any sisterly feelings from her…"

"That might well be true," Aragorn said, "but it is not her feelings for you that bother me. The girl is a healer, has chosen to be such, and that means certain responsibilities, and those concern you _and_ other people who lie here in need of help, family to her or not. If she feels unsuited for the task, then it would be best for her to leave this place. I am sure there is plenty of work to do in the City."

I took a careful step back from the door. Suddenly, all the strength was drained from my body, and I had to steady myself against the wall. I stood there, eyes closed, my hands gripping the stones, my fingernails scratching at them – something I normally hated, but who cared? I wanted to disappear, completely and for good, and I wanted everyone just forget about me. Aragorn's words were harsh, but just, and they had not hurt me, for they were something I rather expected to hear, from him or my father or one of the healers. What was harder to bear was what Faramir had just said. His indulgence hit me truly hard. Of course, knowing my cousin, one would not expect any reproach from him, but I was ready to at least some degree of coldness, of hurt. Instead, he showed such magnanimity and generosity that I felt absolute dirt.

A hand on my arm brought me back to reality.

"My lady Lothíriel, you will catch cold if you stay pressed to that wall for too long," a voice said.

I opened my eyes and was face to face (well, almost, for he was much taller) with Aragorn.

He looked at me thoughtfully, then asked, "Did you hear us talking?"

"Yes," I answered simply.

He nodded. "Then you know my counsel to you. Lady, if attending to the needs of the sick proves to be too great a burden to you…"

"No, no," I interrupted hastily, "you do not understand, my lord. My father allowed me to accompany him here on condition that I do something… of use."

"Surely your father would consent to your wish to change the duty to something you are more inclined to do?"

I shook my head in panic. "No, my lord, I beg you not to tell my father of this… incident. I promise to be more considerate in the future. I realise that my earlier conduct cannot be justified; all I can say is that I will try to prove everyone that I am worth… something."

Suddenly, his eyes softened, became sadder.

"Prove… Please do not do that, child. Do not try to punish yourself. I have seen a lot in this life, and I know that the punishment people bring on themselves on their own accord is usually too hard."

"But do you not see it?" I cried, tears finally springing to my eyes. "Everyone is pointing out to me that I behave like a child, and still they would not let me learn how to be a grown-up!"

There was much more I wanted to say, but I stopped there. What was the use of talking to a complete stranger about things that even my family failed to see?

He gave me a long and thoughtful look.

"All right, my lady," he said. "Stay here, if you will. But you must promise something to me."

I nodded eagerly. At that moment, I would have agreed to collect and bury all the Orc corpses that still lay on the Pelennor Fields.

He smiled and said, "Your most important charge here will be the Steward of Gondor. I am certain you will find it only fair, after you deserted him in his hour of need." The words were softened with a smile. I had enough courage to smile back.

"You do care about him, do you not?" I asked.

"Yes," was the answer. "I would not like to lose him. Your cousin seems to be a remarkable man."

"He is," I agreed. "It runs in the family, you know."

He laughed. "I like you much better in this mood, my lady."

"I promise I shall look after him well, my lord," I said. "He will await you here, alive and well, when you come to claim the throne."

His face became grave. "You cannot promise this, my lady."

"Yes, I can," I said stubbornly. "I am."

* * *

Faramir turned his head at the sound of the door opening, then smiled to see me. "Thíri!"

I crossed over to the bed and kissed him on the cheek.

"Forgive me for being such a fool, cousin," I said. "I just…"

He waved all my explanations aside. "No, Thíri, I understand. We all are under an enormous strain these days, and you more than others. I do not blame you for losing control. I had done the same, remember?"

His eyes were still red from weeping. I stroked his arm awkwardly and shyly, and they filled with tears again. He turned his head away from me and was silent for a while.

When he finally spoke, his voice was very quiet. "How it hurts, Thíri… You know, when I was about fifteen, I fell off a horse and grazed the skin all over my side… my tunic slipped out of my breeches… and at that time I thought that was the most terrible pain one could feel… Stupid, is it not? Now… now it feels as if the graze were on my heart, and I know it will never heal completely."

I did not know what to say. His words almost brought the sensation onto my own body, a thing very new and unexpected, so I was rather studying my reaction to it than thinking of him. I looked down onto my right hand, where was a small ugly-looking scar. I held my hand to him.

"This happened when I was trying to kill a fly on the window pane," I said. "I broke the pane and it cut my hand. Rather badly. There was a whole pool of blood. Rothos said it was a punishment for an attempted murder of an innocent creature."

He stared at me, puzzled. I sat down on the floor and laid my head next to his, looking him in the eye.

"It was very painful, Faramir. I had it bandaged for more than a week, and even when the bandage came off, it was very tender to the touch. But now…it is only a scar."

The grief in his tear-filled eyes began to give way.

"A scar, Faramir," I said, lowering my voice to a mere whisper. "It will always be there, and my hand will never look the same, and it will always remind me of the day I got the wound, but…" I shifted my head very close to his and finished, "but it does not hurt any more."

The tears spilled over; he pulled me closer, so that our brows were touching.

"Thank you…" I heard, and then he wept again, bitterly, convulsively, but this time it did not alarm me. I stayed there, not trying to return the embrace, not saying a single word of consolation, for I still knew none… and yet somehow I felt none were needed.

_TBC_

_She is improving, isn't she? Pleeeease review, I know you want to:)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Thíri, if you stay here another minute, you will drop down where you are, and I am in no condition to carry you to your bed."

"I am not tired," I said.

"Indeed!" Faramir snorted. "Then try holding your eyelids apart with your fingers. You used to do so when you were a child and we tried to coax you into bed."

Normally, I would have flared up at a comment like this one, but today I just smiled, surprising myself, and stretched. "Are you sure you will not need me any longer?"

"Thíri!" he groaned. "I. Am. Not. Dying. Not yet, at least. Go get some sleep, cousin, you look terrible."

"What a thing to say to a lady," I sighed. "Who taught you your manners, Faramir?"

He grinned broadly before answering, "A lady."

Still, I was unsure if I should leave him alone. After all I had done in the day, I felt I owed him at least some company.

We had stayed with our heads touching for a long while, silent, and then I started fussing over his pillow, damp with his tears, and eventually we decided to just turn it over 'and hope no one would notice', as I put it, and it all was over with the two of us giggling like a pair of five-year-olds pleased with a successful concealment of some mischief.

The mood lightened thus, now I was not certain if I could leave him alone for the night. I was weary, yes, and starting to feel every bone in my body, and it had long grown dark outside… no, that could not be taken as a token of nightfall. The darkness was near, and it was not easy to discern between night and day, save by the need to sleep.

I crossed over to the window.

"Go to bed, Thíri," Faramir said again. "It's late already."

I turned to look at him. "How do you know?" I asked, more sharply than I intended.

His eyes became sad. "You are right, it would not be possible to see. How I long not to see you here, Thíri… You, of all, were not meant for war."

"Who was, Faramir? Were you? You detest fighting, that has been a famed subject for discussion in the family for ages."

"I am a man," he shrugged. "Whatever I prefer, defending my land is my first duty. I have been taught to do that. And I was not the worst, by the way, whatever…" he stopped suddenly.

'_Whatever my father might say,'_ I finished in my thoughts. It angered me beyond any measure. How could Uncle have been so short-sighted?

Perhaps, it was him being a man. In my years, however few, I had learned that men often would complicate things to the utmost; helped them fell important, I thought. But I could not forgive Uncle, I could not! What kind of a father would willingly send his child in the chase of death?

Faramir seemed to have read my mind, for he shook his head slightly. "No, Thíri, do not be so quick to judge. You do not know a great many things… nor would you want to know them. Let me tell you just this: I do not bear any grudge against my father. Quite the contrary, I would give anything to be able to have him alive."

"Will you really be all right?" I asked, still lingering in the room.

"I promise, my lady," he pressed his hand to his heart in mock solemnity. "I pray you to forgive me using my left hand, my right one being in no state for this."

"Oh, Faramir!" I laughed, flopping down onto the floor again and kissing his cheek. "You are so sweet!"

He sighed. "Was it not you who berated me for my bad manners mere minutes ago? And Thíri… please use a chair, you are going to ruin your dress and regret it bitterly later."

I ignored the advice and put my cheek onto the edge of the bed. "Why is it," I said dreamily, "that I do not become raving mad when you treat me as a little girl? Most of the time, I hate it and do not repress the feeling."

He gave me a very tender smile. "Perhaps, you are growing up, my little cousin," he whispered and winked at me, thereby earning another kiss.

"Now off with you, Thíri," he commanded.

I turned to cast yet another glance on him. His eyes were on me, smiling, but the smile was not that of our childish mirth of minutes before. There was something deeper there, tinged with sadness only a little, but with wonder as well. A thought struck me full force: I loved my cousin. What a new and unexpected sensation it was: to look upon someone and realise you love him, with a quiet and contented feeling that did not need to be put in words, for this was a kind of love you share freely with your nearest ones. And yet… never had the feeling been so acute when I looked at my father and brothers. No, no, it was not that I did not love them. I simply never realised that, taken with my petty griefs and childish offences.

"What is it, Thíri?" Faramir sounded concerned.

I smiled and said, "Nothing much. Goodnight, Faramir."

* * *

In the morning, I came to check on him, but he was sleeping peacefully. I had already learned that such a thing was a rare gift to my cousin, so I tiptoed out of the room determined to let him sleep as long as he needed. I reported to the Warden, and he appointed me to caring for others afflicted by the Black Breath and drawn back by Aragorn. By now, it seemed, no one doubted much that he was the long expected King. I only hoped the man had not overexerted himself; he had looked truly weary the day before.

I guess I behaved exemplary, for by noon the Warden appeared a lot less formidable than before and allowed me to take a little stroll, saying something about me being unaccustomed to such 'dire days'.

I briefly wanted to argue with him, but then changed my mind and asked him the whereabouts of the Lady Éowyn of Rohan.

"Why would you need that, child?" he demanded.

"Yesterday, her brother asked me to visit her," I explained. "He thought it might do her good."

The Warden looked as if he found it fairly difficult to believe that the presence of a clumsy little nursemaid might do any good at all, to the Lady Éowyn or any, but finally consented.

* * *

As I approached the door, I heard voices. _Oh, right_, I sighed. _Do I always have to overhear bedridden people's private talks?_

Of course, I had to either turn around and leave, or knock at the door to announce my arrival, but I did neither. As always, my curiosity got the better of me, so I stopped at the door, a tray with a jug of fresh water and some mugs held prominently in front of me – another nursemaid sent by her superiors with something the lady might need.

A man's voice said pleadingly, "Please, Éowyn, for me. You must get well, sister, and that will never happen if you do not eat."

That was followed by a fierce "No!" and a splash and a dull bang on the floor.

"Look what you have done!" the man cried. "Éowyn… must you make it all so difficult for us?" There was clear exasperation in his voice.

There was a pause, then he said, "All right. I shall get someone to fetch you clean bedclothes."

I was just a trifle too late to jerk away from the door; he threw it open and rushed into the hallway, bumping into me. Instinctively, I held the tray to myself, forgetting all about the water, which promptly splashed onto me. The jug and the mugs were on the floor in an instant, in the shape of shards now, I stood wet through and rather cold – a situation more ridiculous was really hard to picture.

He stood gaping at me, eyes aflame with rage. For a while, neither of us could utter a word; then he roared, "For goodness' sake, lady, if you cannot make yourself useful, at least step out of people's way!"

This said, he grabbed my shoulder and nearly threw me aside, before proceeding along the hallway.

Somehow, I managed to keep my foothold. I was angry, but my bewilderment was a lot stronger. Was this the man who wanted to boast his good manners when we met but a day before? The one who looked so compassionate and understanding?

With a sigh, I started to pick the shards of earthenware. That was all his sister's fault, I decided. She must have been stubborn… but then, had my brothers and father not called me stubborn?

I chuckled at the thought of my father pushing young ladies about after a particularly heated exchange with me. No, that would never happen. But my brothers, especially Erchirion…

Having collected the ruins of my camouflage, I placed the now useless tray by the wall and tapped at the door. No one answered, so I took the courage to enter uninvited.

A young woman was sitting propped up against the head of the bed, staring mutely in front of her. Her left arm was in a sling; her right one lay limply on the cover. She did not even heed me; her eyes never left the wall opposite her, as though she could see through it and observe something most intriguing there.

"Éowyn?" I called, forgetting all about the 'my lady'; but then, was I not a Prince's daughter myself?

At first, I thought she had not heard me. Then, very slowly, as if making an effort, she turned her head to me and looked at me with big light blue eyes.

She frightened me.

There was nothing in those eyes, except their colour. I could see no emotion there, no fear, or anguish, or sadness – not even despair. They were the eyes of one utterly drained of life.

Her bedclothes were wet and smelled of broth. I came closer hesitantly and said, "You will need to have these changed. Let me see to it."

She blinked several times, her eyelashes lowering slowly, as if she had just learned that simple movement. I busied myself with the bedclothes. If I learned anything here at the Houses, it was changing them without bothering the sick too much. She was silent, allowing me to change her soaked sleeping gown without any protest.

"I shall be back in just a minute," I said, slipping out of the room, to pick my poor tray and rush to the kitchens to get some new broth.

I returned with it. Éowyn was sitting in the same position, but this time she looked more alert. She gave me a look which was a lot sharper than the one before. I placed the bowl on the bedside table and took a seat on her bed. She eyed me warily. I straightened my back, preparing for a battle; from what I had heard earlier, I was now facing a task immensely hard.

Suddenly, I had an idea that looked good.

"Do you know the Warden of the Houses?" I asked.

She looked faintly surprised at the question, but answered, "Yes," in a very quiet voice.

"Then you know how terrible he might be," I continued cheerfully. "Nearly flogged me the day of the battle."

"Why?" she asked, a little more interested.

"I left the Houses when there was much to do, and he was furious at that!" I whispered with a horrified air. "I could only hope that would not reach my father."

"Why are you telling me this?" she said, quite indifferent again.

"Well, you can imagine what the Warden will do if he finds out you have not been eating," I explained. "You see, I am supposed to look after you when I am free from my other duties here." That, of course, was a horrendous lie.

"I do not feel hungry."

"Of course you do not!" I risked patting her hand. "But this feeling can be treacherous; you might have convinced yourself that you do not want any food, and when you taste it, it may prove wrong! Shall we try?"

She gave me a wistful smile, with her eyes more than her lips. "I am afraid my hands cannot serve me the way I would like them to."

"What happened to you?" I asked as softly as I could manage.

She winced as if in pain. "My left arm was broken by a mace, and my right one…" she shuddered and drew in a deep breath, "I struck _that thing_ with it…"

She was deadly pale, so I hurried to change the topic. I longed to know what _that thing_ was, but it could wait until later. All I could understand was that her right hand was in bad state as well.

"Let us see how I can help you," I said cheerfully.

She cast me a scornful glance. "All you can do is spoon-feed me. Well, go on. When my brother wanted to do that, I was mad! Now I think it was rash of me. Better him than a complete stranger. But – good thoughts always come a little late, do they not? And then you regret what you cannot change."

"Yes," I said quietly, looking at her intently. There was something so familiar in the tone of her voice… and in the stubborn tilt of her head… yes, that _other_ would also feel humiliated by someone's assistance…

"Can you move your right hand at all?" I asked.

She slowly brought her fingertips together and smiled ruefully. "This is all I can manage. The healers say it will eventually be as it was before."

"Then you need to move it. Let us do this…"

I sat beside her, took the bowl in my left hand and held it in front of her. With my right hand, I took her weak fingers and wrapped them around the spoon. Her hand was deadly cold, but it shook a bit under my touch.

"See?" I said. "You can do it. I shall help you just a little."

She turned her head to look at me again. All of a sudden, I saw how young she was, about my age, and how tortured. The distant, withdrawn look was gone; her eyes were suddenly dark, pleading, as if she could not bring herself to ask for help except with those impossibly big eyes. Then she looked at our hands, clasped together – her white and cold one, and mine, darker with the sun and the sea wind. She breathed deeply and made to push the spoon into the bowl.

That was achieved fairly easy; the way up was more difficult, and I had to help her. She sipped the broth, winced slightly, for it was rather hot, and said, "It is good."

And it seemed the whole world was reduced to the hesitant movement of the spoon: up, and down, and then up, and down again. My eyes, and hers, too, never left that spoon; for a while, it was the centre of everything…

At some point, tears appeared on her cheeks; she did not attempt to hold them back, or stop eating, just continued the still hesitant movement of her hand together with mine, tears falling onto our fingers, the spoon, and into the bowl.

When it was empty, I put it back on the table, then took hold of her hand again. She was weeping still, and tears had left small wet marks on the breast of her sleeping gown. She did not attempt to wipe them off her face.

_Lothíriel, you fool!_ I berated myself. _She cannot do this, her hand is too weak!_

Gently, I brought her hand to her face together with mine, caressing her wet cheek. She sobbed just once, before collapsing into my arms, shuddering with soundless weeping.

As usual, I found myself a little confused and embarrassed. With Faramir, I had not dared to embrace him; I still felt too shy, he was a man, after all, no matter that the man was my cousin! _What is a woman supposed to do when someone is weeping in her arms? Stroke the person's head? Say something? What?_

I went for the stroking, and it seemed to help, for she quieted shortly and just sat sagging against me. After a while, she sighed deeply and sat straight.

First, we tried to avoid each other's eyes; then I stole a glance at her and we both smiled, for she did the same just then.

"Do not tell me you were sent by my brother," Éowyn said.

"In a sense," I admitted.

"What is your name?"

"Lothíriel, but everyone calls me Thíri."

"Thíri," she repeated. "It sounds very pleasant. I guess my name is known to you." She frowned. "Why is your dress all wet? I certainly could not have done this, not so much!"

"No," I said. "It was your brother, leaving. He bumped into me in the hallway, and I was holding a tray with a jug of water. Served me right for a little eavesdropping."

She smiled fondly. "My brother."

And then we smiled at each other again, and she looked decidedly better to me.

* * *

_TBC_

_I had some problems with the Net at the weekend, that is why I could not post. Now that it is over, I am posting two chapters at a time._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"How did you end up here?"

I was brushing Éowyn's long fair hair, very thick and glossy. I rather enjoyed the job, though I suspected I pulled it none too gently a couple of times, making her wince.

"I followed my uncle to battle," she said quietly, sighing.

"Your uncle was Théoden of Rohan, right?"

"Right."

Her voice was emotionless.

I finished brushing and asked her, "Would you like me to braid it for you? It will come all tangled if it stays loose while you are in bed. It happened once to me, as a child, and my brothers volunteered to help me. Nightmare, that is what it was."

"How many of them do you have?" she asked, turning her head slightly to look at me.

"Three," I said, somewhat sourly.

She shook with soundless laughter.

"How very funny," I grumbled, giving her hair a tug.

"Aw!" she screamed. "That is not fair, Thíri! I am disadvantaged here!"

"Good," I said vengefully, starting to braid the long golden tresses.

When I finished, there were two neat long braids lying on her shoulders. Somehow, they gave her a very youthful and vulnerable look, and I wondered what trick of fate had brought this girl to the thick of the battle. A million questions fluttered on the tip of my tongue, but I checked them. She was obviously distressed to think of her injuries and that which caused them, so I decided to leave the matter be, for a while.

However, it was she who mentioned it first.

"I left my country in disguise of a Rider," she said. "I did not desire to stay behind and wait for doom… so I rode forth to battle, and then, when the Witch King attacked my uncle, I first slew his mount and then, with the help of my little friend Merry, I slew him too."

I gaped at her matter-of-fact tone. "You mean… the Witch King of Angmar?"

"Actually, I did not ask him about his realm," she snorted. "I do not remember it very clearly… just the stench of that beast, and how the blood poured forth when I hewed off its head, and how he struck me with his mace… I think I ducked several times, and then it fell upon my shield and shattered it. The healers say I was fortunate, for the bone in my forearm cracked, but stayed in place."

"What happened to your right arm, then?" I breathed, awed by the revelation.

She shrugged. "I do not know. They say it is deadly for anyone to strike a Nazgûl, and I drove my sword right into his helm… at least I think so. And then it was cold… everything…"

She shuddered, and I drew the coverlets about her shoulders. She was very pale, even for her complexion, which was a lot fairer than that of the ladies of Gondor. I longed to hear more, but the memories seemed to be too hard on her.

"Would you like anything? To eat, or to drink… or perhaps I should try and find your brother?" I rather hoped that she would not choose the last option, for I felt no inclination to face her brother again. Who knows what mood he might be in?

She smiled at me. "No, thank you, Thíri, I am fine. I would like to see my brother, but he most likely is with other commanders, so I do not think he would want to be bothered."

"And I would not want to be the one to bother him," I said in mock fright.

"He is not that bad when I behave properly," she said. "You might come to like him."

"I do," I admitted. "But he is too…" I trailed off in search of a word, and failed to find one. But at that moment the door opened, and in came two healers.

One of them, Maelnor, nodded his greetings and said, "Lothíriel, you are needed at the kitchens, and then go straight to the Warden. He wanted a word with you when you are free. We shall take care of the Lady Éowyn."

When I was already running along the hallway, another thought struck me. Why is it that no one ever tries to call me 'my lady'? It is quite different with Éowyn.

Must be the hospitality thing, I decided.

* * *

It was quite late in the evening when I managed to reach Faramir's room. To my great delight, he was sitting propped up against the pillows, a book in his hands. 

"Cousin!" I exclaimed. "You look wonderful. How is your shoulder?"

"Much better. Stings a little when I move my arm, but that is a healing pain, not the throbbing which might signal the infection."

I sat next to him onto the bed, resting my aching back on his pillows, and recounted my earlier adventures. Not once did he interrupt me, just listened very intently, a warm smile on his lips.

"You are beginning to enjoy it, are you not, Thíri?" he said when I finished. "Your duties here, I mean."

I kicked my foot up into the air. "I would not say 'enjoy', cousin. I simply do not mind them as much as I did before. And the Warden seems much kinder to me. Guess what, today he even told me he was quite pleased to have me here and that he would tell Father how good I was…"

Faramir laughed. "You are a child, Thíri. Do you always have to prove the world that you are good? We all love you as you are."

"I know." I kissed him. "But the people here… Faramir, many of the ladies who come to help were raised just as I was, in noble families, with kind parents, many are married. But still, they are different from me. You know," I turned to face him, "one of the nursemaids, everyone calls her Miri, lost her husband a year ago, and then her twin boys were affected by the Black Breath and died. She is only a year older than me, and her hair is already greying. Éowyn and her brother lost their entire family, and…and you, too…" I finished in a whisper, lowering my head.

"Thíri…" he sighed softly, his hand touching my hair. I jerked away impatiently. "That so many people suffered does not mean you have to sacrifice yourself to them. Be glad you have your own family beside you. Torturing yourself will not bring them back."

"I am not torturing myself," I snapped. "I just want to be of use. I want to help, too. I could not sit at home and read or play or embroider while my father and my brothers are fighting. Waiting is hard, Faramir, so hard… So I managed to persuade father to bring me here. You may call me foolish, but I at times I am sure that nothing ill can befall them if I am near."

"It is said all women think so," Faramir said, stroking my hand.

"So," I concluded, "all is well that ends well. The battle is won, and we can return shortly. I do not know how long Father might want to stay here, but I suppose I can linger here at least until you are well."

"That may not be as easy as that, my lady," a voice said from the doorway. We looked there and saw Aragorn, a little cleaner than before, but still unshaven and rather weary-looking.

I blushed to the roots of my hair. I, the daughter to Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, half-lying on the bed beside the new Steward of Gondor; still wet (I had not had any time to change), feet kicking in the air like a baby's… and the King-to-be, the weariness in his eyes slowly giving way to sparkles of laughter.

I sprang to my feet and stood almost to attention. "Apologies, my lord."

He just smiled. "No, my lady, it is I who has to apologise, intruding thus on a private moment. I wanted a word with my lord the Steward, but if you are here, you can hear the news as well. The council of the commanders is over. It has been decided to march to the Black Gates."

He spoke dryly, matter-of-factly, his intent grey eyes on the face of Faramir. The latter inhaled sharply, then nodded. "I expected something of the kind, my lord. When are you to set off?"

"The eighteenth," Aragorn answered.

He turned his gaze to me, saddened. "Forgive me, my lady, for bringing you these sad tidings."

I shook my head, unable to utter a syllable; finally, I said in a hoarse whisper, "But… you cannot win. I have learned something of Mordor while I was here… you will face the whole might of the Dark Lord there, thousands and thousands… you cannot win."

"That we all know," he said gravely. "The march is planned as a distraction, to draw Sauron's attention to us and give Frodo a chance to fulfil his Quest."

I noted absently that he used the name of the Dark Lord, a thing rare in Gondor.

"My father…" I looked at him, not having the courage to finish.

He nodded. "Yes, my lady, he is going with us too."

I lowered my head. My mouth seemed to fill with some sticky substance, and I swallowed with an effort. When I next looked up, they were looking at me, compassion shining in their eyes.

"I remember you wanted a word with Faramir, my lord," I said, my voice almost normal. "I will leave you now."

Their alarmed exclamations boomed simultaneously, "Thíri!" from Faramir and "My lady!" from the other man.

I stopped at the door and managed a weak smile. "I am fine, my lords. And shall be. I leave you to your conversation and bid you good night."

* * *

I proceeded to the gardens, walking faster and faster, until at last I was running, heedless of the harsh, cold wind that promptly got through my damp clothing. I ran until I reached the walls, and there collapsed against the stones, shivering more from my emotions than from the cold. 

This could not be true. It could not! One battle over, I getting more or less comfortable, my family safe, and now they were sent to the Black Land itself, to perish there!

And I had to stay behind to wait…

Not to hope, to wait. For them to return dead. Or not to return at all. Orcs are known to do horrible things with the bodies of the fallen…

Oh, how I understood Éowyn now. How I longed to ride with the army and perish there with them. I did not want to wait here!

It started to rain. I crouched at the wall, wrapping my arms around myself. I did not want to return. If I could just die here, fall asleep and never awake.

Someone brought me back to alertness with a shake to my shoulder.

I looked up and saw Aragorn.

Silently, he took me in his arms and started to walk towards the Houses. I was too weary to protest, so I just snuggled closer to his broad chest.

"Why did you go after me?" I asked him as he carried me inside.

"Faramir asked me to. He is very concerned about you, my lady. And he is right. Look at yourself, you are all wet! You should not do such foolish things, Lothíriel. Your catching cold will not help anyone."

Yet another man to call me by my name.

He put me down, grabbing my shoulders.

"Have you ever realised, child, that, should your father and brothers perish in the war, you will be the ruler of Dol Amroth?"

I shook my head stubbornly. "Do not want to think about that."

"But you will have to. You must. Now change into some dry things and go to sleep. You will be needed tomorrow, and later, for healing and other things."

He was silent for a moment, then lifted my chin so I could meet his eyes.

"Being noble-born may sometimes be tedious, child, because of all the protocol and foolish limitations imposed by it, but it is also a responsibility that not anyone can bear. I have a feeling that you can, despite all your childish escapades. As can your cousin. As you once told me, it runs in the family."

I smiled involuntarily. I certainly liked the man, liked him for his manner with me. He was much like Faramir. I saw deep trust in his eyes, nothing of benevolent indulgence my own family would give me – he truly believed I was not just a silly girl. And he did not offer me pity of a parental kind; he did not try to comfort me with hugs, and that I appreciated.

_You have to be strong, Lothíriel. You have no choice but to be so.

* * *

_

Late that night, I tiptoed to Faramir's room and entered quietly. He was still awake. He turned his head to see who it was, but this time he did not greet me with his usual smile. He held out a hand to me, and I ran to his bed, climbed onto it, and felt his arm wrap tightly around me.

"Hang the propriety, Thíri," he whispered. "Stay here if you want, the bed is big enough."

So I did.

* * *

_TBC_

_My sincere thanks to my reviewers! You certainly seem to like my Thiri! Yes, Elenhin, your analysis of her character coincides with my view perfectly. Read on, she still has a long way to go before she is Queen._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Hey! Wake up, Thíri!"

I did not want to. I mumbled something and turned onto my side.

"Thíri, you must get out of my bed. If anyone sees you here…"

A hand shook me by the shoulder. I groaned angrily and gave that someone a push with my elbow.

A hushed yelp of pain followed, and suddenly I was wide-awake, on a bed beside Faramir, whose face was a grimace of pain.

He slowly pushed himself up on his elbows, his left hand on his right shoulder.

"Whoever told you that you could be a healer, I wonder," he hissed. "Or is it your new friendship with that shieldmaiden?"

"Faramir!" I exclaimed, on the floor in a split second. "Has it opened? Let me have a look, now!"

"You, young lady? I guess, one more round of your gentle touches, and I shall be bleeding to my death."

I stood there in dismay that could not be put in words, tears forming in my eyes. "Then… then I shall go and find someone… oh, Faramir, I am so sorry…" I put my hand over my face, struggling desperately not to burst into tears.

Quite unexpectedly, he gave a hearty laugh. "Oh, Thíri, it is I who must beg for your forgiveness. I was just jesting, all right? I am fine, it was not that bad."

"Truly?" I gasped. "You… you are not bleeding?"

"Truly," he smiled, reaching his arm towards me.

I hit him on the hand in indignation. "You… you… oh, I wish I had pushed you harder."

"No, you do not. You are too good and gentle for that."

"I must then ask Éowyn to teach me how to be tougher," I grumbled.

"You know, Thíri, as your older cousin and Steward, I feel an inclination to forbid all your interaction with that lady. She is being a bad influence on you. I quite dislike her already, not even having seen her!"

"Well, wait until you do, cousin," I grinned. "You might come to like her. She is a beauty."

"Oh, is she? Not a matron seven feet tall with huge hands and feet? Did you not tell me she had beaten the Witch King of Angmar?"

"Yes, but that does not mean she is the size of a statue in the Great Hall! In fact, the one who helped her was even smaller. A Halfling."

"A Halfling?" He looked startled.

I told him all I knew of Éowyn's adventures. Gradually, he became serious. "Poor girl, that must have been hard on her. I suggest you go and keep her company after you eat your breakfast."

I nodded. "I was going to do just that, but not before I fetch you yours."

"Thank you, Thíri, but that is not necessary. Yesterday, Pippin came to see me, and today he is coming to eat with me. Poor soul, he must have been so distraught at all this… Now I remember him telling me something about his cousin, wounded in battle. Has to be your Éowyn's friend."

I prepared to leave, when he called to me again, "Thíri?"

I turned around. "Yes?"

"Is she truly that beautiful?"

"Have you not heard? But," I added mischievously, "I will be certain to pass to her your words about huge hands and feet. She will surely find it amusing."

With the sweetest of my smiles, I left.

* * *

Éowyn was with her brother, which made me momentarily uneasy. My lavender dress was still drying after our encounter of the day before and my walk in the rain. However, I promptly collected my wits and gave him another of my sweet smiles.

"A good morning to you both," I said. "Feeling better, Éowyn? How is your arm today? And you, my lord? You do not find our hallways too dark, do you? It is so easy to stumble over something there, especially if the thing is small and hard to notice."

He blushed to the roots of his hair. Éowyn seemed to be taking great efforts to stifle her laughter. She was pale still, I noted, but not with the deadly whiteness of the day before; there was still deep sadness in her eyes, but that at least was some emotion, not the emptiness that had frightened me so.

She gave him an amused glance, which was also very commanding. I chuckled inwardly at the pleading expression in his eyes.

"Thank you, Thíri, I am much better, see?" she lifted her hand to the level of her eyes, then balled it into a fist, a loose one, but it was better than the feeble movements she could manage before. "I am trying to exercise it as much as I can."

"Do not overdo it, sister," her brother said.

"I am not overdoing anything," she snapped. "I am not going to stay in this cursed bed for much longer!"

He was not beaten that easily. "The healers told me you had to stay there for ten days, which means eight more, not counting this one."

"Impressive," she yawned. "How well you deal with numbers."

"Éowyn!" he roared.

She shot him a look which might have set the whole room on fire. "I am going to do what I find necessary, Éomer, and you will not be in my way! Too long have I been just another decoration in the Golden Hall!"

"You are driving me mad, woman," he sighed. "I had better leave now, before we both start saying things we may regret."

With that, he turned on his heels and was gone.

"Woman!" she snorted. "Were I not one, to whom would it fall to settle matters with that black apparition?"

The remembrance was clearly not very frightening for her any longer.

"You were too harsh with him, Éowyn," I started hesitantly. "He did sound concerned about your well-being."

"I know I was," she groaned. "Oh, Thíri… sometimes I hate myself, I am so mean and ungrateful… I do love him, so much, now that there is no one left…" She hung her head helplessly and whispered, "Truly no one…"

She sat still for a moment, then continued, "Thíri, I… I cannot stand being confined. There are things… I cannot bring myself to tell you of them… but believe me, every time I see someone leave me, bid me farewell, it all rushes upon me, and I am so scared I cannot move or think, and all I want is to be outside, to feel the wind, and the sun, and the smell of fresh air… Thíri, for years my brother and my cousin would ride off, leaving me to keep my Uncle company, and… and…" She shivered violently, her eyes almost black with fury, and fear, and disgust… Surely all this could not come form her memories of her uncle the King? She spoke of him rather fondly. There must have been something else.

I first wanted to ask her about it, but changed my mind. All this rush of emotions was already too much for her healing body; as to her soul, I now started to suspect that she still had a long way to go.

"Here, lie down," I whispered soothingly. "It will do you no good, worrying so. If you want to rise from this bed, you will need to gain more strength, and how will that be possible if you torture yourself so? Besides," I forced a grin, "you will need to look good, too. For me."

She looked surprised. "For you, Thíri?"

"Yes. You see, my cousin, who is also here, thinks – from the description of your valiant battle with the Captain of Ringwraiths – that you must be a huge woman with big hands and feet. Will it not be a real pleasure to shame him?"

She finally smiled. "A worthy cause. I cannot wait to give your cousin a piece of my mind. Was he in the battle, too?"

I did not want to go deep into the reasons for Faramir's wound, so I simply nodded.

When I finally took my leave of Éowyn (having first made certain she ate her breakfast and taken the brew that was supposed to calm her a bit), I saw that Éomer was still lingering in the hallway, looking rather miserable.

* * *

"How is she?" he rushed to me. "Is she better? I am so concerned about her…"

"She will be fine, eventually," I tried to soothe him. "Why do you not go and try to talk to her again?"

He gave a short and bitter laugh. "Everything I say seems only to anger her. I… I do not understand. We have ever been so close… have not had many people to turn to of late. Now she is so… different. Gandalf has said something to me before Aragorn healed her, but I must confess I was not really listening, I feared so to…" there was a slight catch in his voice, "to… lose her, too."

"Fighting the Witch King was not a task so easy," I said. "Perhaps she is plagued by the memories still."

"Perhaps," he sighed. "And perhaps it is because she is not yet over… but I am certain you do not want to listen to all of this. You must be burdened enough, with the war going on, your family leaving, all the duties here…"

"But among my duties here is a duty to help her heal, too," I said softly.

Suddenly he gave me a smile of such warmth and gratitude that it went to my very heart. "You already have, my lady. When I was going to visit Éowyn today, I expected to find her in the same stupor she was yesterday, and yet I found her trying to brush her hair by herself and cursing like mad… never heard anything sweeter! First thing she said was, 'Thíri could do it a lot better', and then she told me of your kindness to her, and how you made her laugh… I cannot say how grateful I am. I am forever in your debt, my lady."

I gave him a slight bow. "It was a pleasure, my lord."

"Was it?" he grinned. "I bet that after I bumped into you, you did not expect anything good from a sister of such a boorish fellow. I… I did not hurt you, did I?"

"No, it was just my dress that suffered," I laughed. "Which is even worse," I added with a mock frown, "for garments are sparse at this time."

He laughed too, and I suddenly felt amazingly at ease with him. Not like I was with Faramir, nor with my brothers; I could not put this feeling in words even to myself.

A bit confused, I asked, "Are you riding with the armies too?"

He sighed again. "Yes. Riding to my doom, likeliest of all. I would not like to part with Éowyn like this; these could well be our last hours together…"

"Then go to her."

"She will simply bark at me again," he said miserably.

"Are you afraid, my lord? Of a mere woman?" I teased.

"If the woman is my sister, yes," he replied gloomily.

* * *

My father and Elphir came to bid me farewell late at night. I was sitting with Faramir, in silence; having tried dutifully to make some cheerful conversation, we were finally tired of the efforts and just sat together by the window. Faramir was out of bed by now, in a big chair, with a blanket draped over his shoulders; I was sitting on the windowsill, one cheek pressed against the wall, staring unseeingly outside.

Faramir had had quite a load of visitors. First Pippin and Merry (Éowyn's little friend), then Beregond, a Guard of the White Tower who seemed very devoted to my cousin, with his son. This one was clearly not at his ease, as if he strived not to give out something which was very hard to conceal. Faramir had noticed and tried to question him about it, but Beregond began to look truly miserable, and my cousin decided to let the matter be; he hated to distress anyone.

Last of all, came Aragorn; he once again voiced his trust in my cousin and charged him with running the City while he was away. He still looked extremely weary and sad.

"I do not even know if what we are doing is right, Faramir," he confessed. "I am leading these men to their death. It is not very hard to risk your own life, but if you know other lives will be spent at your will… I think I should have made it all voluntary."

Faramir was silent. By the trembling of his hands, I guessed that he was reliving the hopeless battle his father had thrown him into. Aragorn seemed to have understood that, too, for he suddenly reached for his hands and enclosed them within his own palms.

"You are not to blame for that, Faramir," he said very softly.

Faramir nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. One of them rolled down his cheek, leaving a shiny streak in its wake. Aragorn sighed and pulled him into a gentle embrace, mindful all the time of his healing shoulder.

"You must live through this, my friend," he whispered. "Not for me, not even for yourself… you know it."

Faramir nodded again and met his eyes quite calmly and confidently. "I will."

I was once again remembering the conversation when Faramir's voice broke into my thoughts, "Thíri, I want you to promise me something."

I smiled faintly. "If it is not about sitting on the floor. I love that, you know."

"No," his tone was very grave. "It concerns your family."

"My family?"

"Yes, Thíri. Now, I want you to listen to me. You must be kind to them… let them see you strong and understanding, not a whimsical child. It matters a lot how you bid farewell to your loved ones, especially if you are not certain that you will see them again. In fact… you should always think that, one day, you will be parted from them… and if you are left with bitter feelings, they will haunt you your whole life."

"I… I p…promise, Faramir," I stuttered.

"Good. It is for your own good, cousin."

We did not speak again until my father came with Elphir. Until this day, I do not know how I managed to hold back my tears; I smiled bravely as I kissed them both and even managed to jest a bit, though I did not remember it a minute later. I was conscious of Faramir's eyes on me, all the way, compassionate and encouraging; I knew this parting was as hard on him, given the losses he had endured, and it struck me that now we had only each other to hold on to.

Finally, it was time for them to go; they needed a good sleep before the march, which I doubted they could get anyway. When they left, after last embraces, I found myself standing helplessly in the middle of the room, until again Faramir spoke, "Go after them, Thíri. Go, if you want to. See them off."

I ran out, along the hallway, only to see they were already gone. I heaved an exasperated groan.

"My lady Lothíriel?"

I nearly jumped, than turned around and saw Éomer. He must have just bidden farewell to his sister and was now headed to the camp.

A long while we looked at each other; I was breathless, as near to tears as never before, snatches of thoughts rushing through my head… and he looked very sad, though determined.

Gradually, his eyes softened with a strange expression.

"I can see you have just saw your family off, my lady," he said.

I nodded. My chest hurt awfully, so I could only gasp out, "They are gone…and my other two brothers are fighting too…"

He smiled. "This is not the way you part with warriors, lady. I have just left behind an angry and sad sister… but I think we both deserve a more fitting farewell."

With that, he suddenly grabbed my chin, his other hand wrapping tightly around my waist, and pressed his lips to mine in a fierce, almost violent kiss.

* * *

_TBC_

_Thank you so much for your reviews, guys! They are a great incentive to write as fast as my clumsy fingertips would allow me._

_**Raksha the Demon**: I didn't really think much of Beregond :( but I guess he's just somewhere there in the background. Maybe he takes up Thiri's place when she is breaking things elsewhere :)_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

All I could think of was how different this sensation was from any other kiss I had had before. My father, when I was in the mood and would let him put his hand on the back of my head and press his lips to my brow; my brothers, on very rare occasions like my birthday – at all other times the signs of their affection would be friendly slaps on a shoulder, as if I had been another boy; a pageboy who was the object of my first infatuation, and we would sneak away into a quiet corner and practice wet kisses that left me embarrassed and slightly disgusted, but thoroughly convinced we were doing 'the right thing'.

There was nothing like disgust this time; in fact, I rather enjoyed the kiss. And realized I still had to practice for years and years. My eyes were wide open, and I could discern his expression, which made me want to laugh, so concentrated he looked. And…and there was something else, a feeling I could not pinpoint just then, like a longing for…what?

Finally, he withdrew, looking into my eyes intently, searching my face for something… I did not know what he saw there, but then, suddenly, he smiled and said, sounding quite casual to me, "I hope this will keep your spirits high, lady. Sorrow does not befit you."

The dark hallway span round and round, and I had to lean against him to keep my foothold. My mouth went dry; there was some bitter taste in it. I gasped a few times like fish out of water. During the kiss, all was so wonderfully in place, so natural and easy; now it was as if someone had given me a push in the knees from behind.

So…all this to 'keep my spirits high'. How truly clever. All of a sudden, I knew what it was I longed for. _Lothíriel, you silly, silly girl, you expected any tenderness, you wanted sweet words of love whispered in your ear… no, better shouted… and all you got was someone playing a very very witty prank, just to make you – and himself – feel a little better._

I withdrew from his embrace, taking a couple of moments to regain my composure. _He will not see these thoughts in my face._

"You are right, my lord. Sorrow befits no one. I thank you for taking such efforts to lighten my heart. I hope yours is a little unburdened now, too."

He looked puzzled, a bit hurt, perhaps. But then, his mouth curved in a gentle smile.

"Will you give me any token of your favour, so that I might remember this moment in darker hours?" His tone was slightly teasing.

I slowly shook my head. I was not the one to play these games.

"No, my lord." I said firmly. "True favour feels no need of tokens… and if there is none of it, even more so."

The hurt was plain in his eyes now, and I felt my blood start to boil in my veins. What did he expect, a playful exchange? The time for that was obviously wrong.

"I must beg you to excuse me now, my lord," I concluded. "There are others who might need my presence."

We bowed to each other and parted.

* * *

As I was going back to Faramir's room, I seemed to stumble on every single crack in the stone floor. At times, I would find out that I walked into a wall and wonder what on earth was wrong with me. When I finally tripped over a stone that stuck out of the floor and fell on my hands and knees, I felt a little sobered by the pain from the contact.

"This will not do, Lothíriel," I murmured to myself, struggling back to my feet. "Pull yourself together."

All I wanted was to get back to Faramir. Faramir would know what to do. Faramir would first listen to me, that he can do like no other man, and then either explain the whole matter to me, or smile and wave it aside. So I straightened my back and entered the room.

To my great dismay, there was another visitor. This time, it was Mithrandir. They talked very quietly, sitting at the window, and the wizard was smoking his pipe and producing delicate white rings. They floated off into the night air, first slowly dissolving into the tiniest wisps, and then disappearing completely. Puff… another one left its carved home and set off on the perilous journey towards the East.

"You do remember my cousin Lothíriel, Mithrandir," Faramir said with a smile. "She is Prince Imrahil's daughter and my most valued companion."

Mithrandir smiled at me, too. "I do remember this young lady, Faramir, though I have not seen her for quite a long while. I must say she is a most attractive Princess. And much cleaner then she was when I last saw her."

I smiled feebly in return, barely able to acknowledge the compliment or the jest.

"But, Thíri, I think you wanted something?" Faramir now sounded anxious. "You do not look very good."

I had entered the room with a firm resolve to tell him everything, but now there was Mithrandir in there, it all faded, much like the smoke rings he made. So, I resorted to the most ancient excuse of all.

"I have a terrible headache, cousin," I said. "I fear I shall not be able to keep you company tonight. Will you manage on you own?"

"But of course, Thíri, dear. Go and try to have some sleep. You have had quite a day, have you not?"

His voice and eyes were so full of compassion that for a moment I wanted to run to him and feel his arms on me once again… but I did not.

"Yes, Faramir," I nodded. "You are quite right. A good night to you then, cousin. My lord Mithrandir."

I inclined my head slightly and left.

* * *

Despite all the ordeals of the previous night, I fell asleep the moment my head touched the pillow and slept until someone banged on the door and called me to my duties. I was told that the army had already ridden forth. I was strangely glad that I had been spared the sight of them departing across the Pelennor. Many of the healers and nursemaids had been to cast one last look upon the host from the walls. They came back very quiet, many trying to hide their tears, but without much success. Miri, the woman who had lost her entire family, sat with her head buried in the folds of her white apron, which she pressed to her face with both hands. I was washing the linen next to her.

"Lothíriel…" she called to me a while later, "do you have any cold water there?"

"Yes," I answered, pouring some into a basin and handing it to her.

She splashed it over her swollen red eyes.

"Does not help much, but feels better," she sighed, wiping her face. "You know, I thought I could never weep again, after what happened to me. I thought all my tears were spent, and yet…now they return."

"They are quite understandable," I said, sitting closer to her and putting my elbows on my knees. My arms were aching from wringing out the huge sheets, so I decided to give them some rest.

She shook her head. "No, it is not the grief for my family. I…I just looked at all those men, at the host… How terrible it will be if the sacrifice they are making is all in vain. And most likely, it is."

We were silent for a moment.

"Lothíriel, your family are also fighting, are they not?" she asked gently, putting her hand on my arm.

I nodded.

"You are bearing it remarkably well," she noted.

"If the time comes to grieve for them, grieve I shall," I stated grimly. "Not earlier."

"Perhaps you are right," she said. "But then, you do not know what waiting for the tidings means. Every sound, every little happening, you read as ominous. You cannot eat, or sleep, or do anything… you wish to be there, you wish it with all your heart, and you regret you were not reckless or brave enough to follow them. At times you pity yourself, or hate yourself for being safe behind walls, but still cannot summon enough courage to go to battle. You throw yourself into every kind of feverish activity, and yet, deep in your heart, you know that you are not doing enough, and you hate yourself even more…"

She turned her head to look me in the eye.

"And you are afraid of dreams. You have them, but you keep them to yourself. You try to bar your mind from picturing your loved ones dead, cold and pale; you do not like to pronounce the word 'death', even if it concerns a dog.

"I thought I was past such things," she gave me a wistful smile. "And yet, seeing them ride off was like seeing my husband for the last time. Tending the sick children recovering from the effects of Black Breath keeps bringing me memories of my own boys… Some would say it is good… I am still alive if I can feel pain…"

I shifted on the wooden bench, letting her lower her head onto my shoulder. My heart was aching for her, and I suddenly wondered where this new Thíri came from, who could be silent when needed, and comfort – in her own way – and ponder over such grave matters.

* * *

For another two days I was simply buried under the great weight of additional duties. Many healers had left with the host, so a couple of the most efficient and experienced nursemaids were promoted to their places in the Houses. I was assigned to the youngest of the patients: children recovering from Black Breath and adolescents for whom the battle of the Pelennor Fields was the first one ever, and those who had received only minor injuries were bursting with pride. In fact, I even got a suspicion that many were very reluctant to leave the Houses of Healing and go to the tasks of clearing away the debris and rebuilding.

I had developed a consistent routine by that time: I breakfasted alone, quite early, and went to my smallest charges. I had a long and tedious argument with the Warden, the very day the host left the City, the subject being keeping the orphans apart from the children who still had some family. I had noticed that however kind mothers and aunts struggled to be towards the poor bereft children, any visit to their more fortunate mates would end in someone's tears. Therefore, I insisted on orphans being kept separately and managed to defend my cause successfully. Eventually, the Warden saw the reason behind my words; moreover, he recruited more nurses to look after the children in question, and I was appointed their superior.

I had personally supervised the recruitment, and was quite pleased with the new nurses. In fact, many of 'my' ladies were the same mothers that came to see their own healing children, and in the end many of my charges acquired a new brother or sister. Meanwhile, we tried to ensure that the orphans were not left alone at any time, and that they felt as comfortable as possible.

At lunchtime, I brought food to Éowyn and we chatted for a while. I was still very concerned about her. She seemed to be regaining her strength nicely, but the deep sadness in her eyes remained. I suspected of something eating away at her, something she would not share with anyone, but – alas! – she did not want to dwell upon that. So all I could do was try and rouse her a little with some teasing and jesting. She also enjoyed the company of her little squire, Meriadoc, so I tried to let them spend time together as often as possible.

I even told her of my last encounter with her brother, which brought her an endless amount of joy.

"He fancies you," she stated.

"Bullshit," I said angrily.

She almost rolled with laughter. "Do all noble-born ladies of Gondor use such language? If so, I would love to spend some time in their company."

She was grave in a second. "Seriously, Thíri, he fancies you. I know my brother. Why, he would never kiss a girl if he did not like her."

"He just wanted to make me feel better," I objected.

"He is not that good," she laughed. "Actually, I think he started liking you the day he spilled that water all over your dress. You did not scream, or burst into tears, of faint – you just went on with your plan. He liked that instantly, I tell you."

After a talk like this one, I regarded my duties a pleasant distraction. I would check on the older boys, then help with cooking or preparing medicines, and in the evening, usually totally exhausted, I landed in Faramir's room.

My cousin was much better. He was not confined to his bed or even to his room anymore. The Warden himself examined his wound and pronounced that the Lord Faramir was on his way to complete recovery and could even make short walks in the gardens. Faramir seemed immensely pleased with that.

In the evenings, we sat together talking, sometimes reading. He was also very sad at times, and then I would simply sit by his side, leaning on his strong shoulder, in silence.

"You rarely mention your family, Thíri," he observed once. "Normally, you love talking about them, if only jesting."

"I am afraid to mention them," I whispered. "I seem to be afraid of everything these days, cousin."

"Poor girl," he murmured, putting his hand to my cheek. "The work here is not too much for you, is it? If it is, you should…"

"No, I am fine," I shook my head. "Faramir?"

"Yes, Thíri?"

"You know, it is good to have you here."

He gave a hearty laugh. "Now that is a true healer speaking! Rejoicing at the infirmity of her poor charge! Really, Thíri, by now I have started to suspect you had some warm feelings towards me, but…"

I punched him in the chest. He easily grabbed me and pulled me to his lap, wincing only slightly from pain.

"I am glad to have you here too, cousin," he said, kissing the top of my head.

* * *

When the host was two days gone, I went to Éowyn's room and found my new friend in the state of fury.

She was standing in the middle of the room, her now good right hand clenched into a fist. Two of the nursemaids seemed to be trying to reason with her.

"Thíri!" she exclaimed with relief. "I want to see the Warden, now."

"All right, I will fetch him here, if you wish," I said, not quite understanding the pleading and alarmed looks in the eyes of two other ladies.

"I do not wish that," she snapped. "What I wish is to go and see him, myself. I want to dress."

Her eyes were little fires. I briefly considered the idea of tying her to bed, dismissed it and said, "I will bring you something to wear. The Warden might not approve of ladies in sleeping gowns walking around."

She finally smiled. "Thank you, Thíri, you are my dearest friend. How could I repay your kindness to me?"

"Do not tell the Warden it was I who brought you the clothes."

* * *

I saw her just a little while later, following in the Warden's wake. They were headed to the gardens.

"Where are you going, Éowyn? Got a permission to take walks?" I teased.

The Warden heard and answered, "I am taking the Lady Éowyn to talk with my lord the Steward. And you, young lady, must have plenty of your own duties to attend to!"

I could plainly see he was in no mood for jesting.

"What have you done to him?" I mouthed to Éowyn.

Her eyes were very resolute. "I am going to meet your cousin," she said.

When they were out of my sight, I chuckled. _All right, Faramir, you will see those huge feet…_

_TBC

* * *

_

_So sorry for keeping you waiting, guys, but I got a piece of text to translate and then caught a nasty cold, and it was orthodox Easter last Sunday, which we celebrate here in this country, so I could not get down to writing for quite a time. That is why I stopped reviewing too. But I promise to make up for the time lost._

_This chapter may not be very exciting, but more drama is to follow!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

When I later came to check on Faramir (for I was bursting with curiosity about his meeting with Éowyn), he had another visitor. That appeared to be Merry, Éowyn's squire and friend, who chatted animatedly with the new Steward. The table was laid for the two of them, and they were obviously taking great pleasure in the food, at least Merry was. For once, my cousin did not seem very glad to see me.

"Thíri…" he said, looking a bit abashed. "I… I thought you were busy elsewhere…"

"What?" I exclaimed. "You know I always come in the evening!"

"Yes, cousin, but… it is early for your usual visit, late afternoon rather than evening, and you can see I have company tonight. You are always so weary when you come. I am certain Master Merry does not mind sharing this late lunch with me."

The Halfling looked ready to share anything, provided there was food involved. In fact, he looked remarkably well: cheeks of a healthy pink hue, glossy brown curls, sparkling eyes. He still moved his right hand a bit awkwardly, but that was clearly no obstacle in his way to earthly pleasures. These little folks were already famed for the amount of food they could consume. I did not mind that in the least; here at the Houses I had already learned that if a sick person regains appetite, that means the turn for the better.

And Merry was a dear. He was a great cook, too, and gave us a hand in the kitchens as often as he could, providing wonderful recipes of his land. The secret behind them was still a secret: until now I wonder how he could take the plainest ingredients and transform them into a masterpiece. He helped me greatly with the smallest ones who would not eat, by presenting their meals in the shape of animals or flowers or mountains and turning a mealtime into a most exciting game.

Tonight, though, it was male company they both wished for.

"Fine," I sighed. "A good night to you both, then."

I had my hand on the doorknob, when suddenly the curiosity swelled in me anew. I wanted to know what had happened between them!

I turned on my heels resolutely and headed for Éowyn's room.

* * *

The room turned out to be empty. The bed looked untouched, the curtains were closed, and Éowyn hated them so. I stood in the middle, confused. 

"Lothíriel?" someone called from the hallway.

I turned abruptly to see there one of the nursemaids.

"If you are looking for the Lady Éowyn, she has been moved to another chamber," the girl continued.

"Why? Did her condition worsen?"

"How should I know?" she shrugged. "That was an order from the Warden. She is now at the other side of the building. Would you like me to show you there?"

"Yes, please," I murmured, quite baffled by all this.

* * *

I found Éowyn on the bed, still dressed. Her face was buried in the pillow, and her shoulders were shaking. 

"Éowyn!" I rushed to her, then forced her to look at me.

Her eyes were red; it looked like she had been weeping for quite long. She took a gulping breath and pressed close to me.

"Hush, dear, it is all right. Will you tell me what happened?"

She took a few more deep breaths, composing herself, then pushed herself up on the bed, wincing from the pain in her broken arm. Her hair was clinging to her flushed wet cheeks, and I smoothed it back.

"See?" she said bitterly, waving her hand around the room. "Now I have a room facing east. How thoughtful. How damn thoughtful!" She banged her fist against the wall.

I caught her hand. "There, Éowyn, you do not want to break another bone, do you? What on earth happened? What did Faramir do?"

She grabbed the pillow and hurled it across the room. "Your dear cousin was all smiles and compliments. He first said he was not yet any authority in the City, and even if he were, he would not let me out of here, as the healers know better. He said that the host was long gone and I could not dream about catching up with them…"

"What!" I gasped. "Éowyn, you…you wanted to leave with the host? Are you mad? Do you _want_ to die?"

She looked at me defiantly. "What if I did?" she demanded.

"Nothing," I shook my head, feeling my temper rise. "Only sometimes I think life is most unjust. My father and brothers do not want to lose their lives, and yet they are riding to their doom, and you… you have been spared, and instead of being grateful for that, you wish yourself dead."

I stood up and went to the open window, desperately struggling to hold back tears. I could not explain even to myself why her words made me so distraught.

She approached me from behind and wrapped her arm around my shoulders.

"Forgive me, Thíri. You are right, I behave…" she shook her head sorrowfully. "It is just that he made me so angry… His words were full of reason, and he was so calm, so gentle, I felt a mere girl, and then I blurted out something about my window not facing east…"

I suddenly felt a great urge to laugh. "So he ordered that you should get a new room?"

"Yes. What?" she demanded angrily as I started to giggle.

"Nothing… Oh, Éowyn, I imagine how mad you were at him… A valiant warrior with a broken arm, clad in a white dress, asking for death in battle… and getting a new room instead…"

She looked at me, white with rage, and then suddenly burst out laughing too, and soon we had to lean on each other for support.

"Oh, Thíri," she groaned when we were totally exhausted, "you do make it all sound so funny. But I was serious. I cannot stay here anymore. It makes me think of…" she checked herself, then went on, "think too much."

"Think of _who_, Éowyn?"

She blushed.

"Is… is it a man?" I ventured.

She slowly turned around and went to sit on the bed.

"Yes," she whispered, "it is a man."

"Tell me," I said, sitting down next to her and taking her hand.

She sighed. "There is not much to tell. The story is pretty plain: I saw him and loved him immediately, with all my heart, and first thought he would notice… but he did not, or pretended that he did not, and then…"

She hung her head, as if in shame.

When she found her voice again, it was very weak. "'Your duty is with your people,' he said to me when I begged him to let me follow him. And…and he said there was a place where his heart dwelt… and I knew that he meant a beloved lady, and I had no hope. So I rode with the king, disguised as a Rider."

She looked at me and laughed bitterly. "A dull story, is it not? I was so foolish. And I did not think of my duty much. I left those placed in my charge, to pursue death, because of unrequited love. Would you not see it as treason, Thíri?"

"Probably," I whispered, hugging her close. "Then I will be a traitor's friend. I am no ruler, nor a law-maker. Who am I to judge you, Éowyn… I fled my home too, in a way; I forced my father to bring me here. But I think it has done me heaps of good. I happen to like myself better now, and I am a lot more at peace."

"This is because you are doing something," she objected. "You seem to always be busy with that thing or another, and you help people a lot… Well," she added, "maybe I should consider your cousin's offer."

"What offer?"

To my intense surprise, she blushed. "He…he invited me to take a walk with him now and then… in the gardens. He said that I was…" she was deep red by now, "that I was beautiful."

I gaped at her, then murmured, "That does not sound like Faramir at all. He has never been a ladies man!"

She caught my arm and said fiercely, "You say he is a good man, Thíri. I… I could see that he had known a lot of grief… is still grieving, perhaps. I do not want to lead him to believe that I could bring him any consolation. He is on his way to healing… I would not dream of altering that. I am a bad companion to him. If he starts courting me, feeling something towards me, I shall not be able to return those feelings."

She looked and sounded feverish to me. I gently made her lie down and pulled the covers up to her chin.

"I think you are looking to far ahead, Éowyn," I said. "What if Faramir was just…polite and did not mean anything romantic? Besides, I do not know much about his love life. There might be a lady in the City waiting for his return! You need not bother with all this too much. And now, I want you to stay in bed. You are overexcited and tired. I shall bring you some brew to help you sleep."

For once, she did not protest.

* * *

"It will soon be a month since Boromir was slain," Faramir said. 

When I finally got to his room, he appeared very sad. I wanted to make him talk about it, but he shook his head silently and went to stand by the window, his back to me.

I quietly settled into a chair and occupied myself with sewing; I had some bedclothes to mend.

Gradually, it became colder.

"Faramir, do close that window, please. I do not want you to catch cold," I said.

He did not move.

"Faramir?"

I saw his hand travel up to his face and stay there; the other gripped the windowsill so that the knuckles turned white.

Alarmed, I got to my feet and stepped to him.

"Faramir, what is wrong?"

He tried to hide, to turn away, but I grabbed his arm and made him face me.

Tears were streaming down his face, through the fingers pressed to it, and the pain in his eyes nearly made me scream. Instead, I collected my wits and pushed him towards his chair; then, I snatched a coverlet from the bed and wrapped it around his frame, at the same time encircling him with my arms. He was shaking badly, gasping for breath, and I noticed with alarm that his fingers were cold as ice. I enclosed them between my own hands, then started rubbing them gently.

When the shaking was not so violent, I left him for a moment, to catch another nursemaid and ask her to fetch a mug of hot brew; I myself was unwilling to leave him alone.

I helped him hold the steaming mug and saw that he drank it all.

"Will you go to bed now?" I coaxed. "You can tell me all about it in the morning."

"Come here," he whispered, holding out his hand. I did as he wished, seating myself on a broad armrest and drawing his head to rest against my shoulder.

"You smell so nice," he murmured, producing a weak smile.

"Of chicken broth, perhaps," I sneered.

He chuckled softly, making my heart tighten painfully in my chest. How hard it was, being the same cheerful Thíri, and weeping inside for him, for all he had to endure. I felt that my little jests and pranks made him feel if a little better. I had learned by this time that baring his soul to anyone was very difficult for him, and, should this happen, later he would feel ashamed of any display of emotion; therefore, I had my own strategy of dealing with that.

Now, though, he seemed quite willing to share with me.

"I had a bad dream, Thíri," he said softly. "Merry told me about Boromir… you know, he died defending him and Pippin; poor Pippin could not bring himself to tell me all about it. Then I came back here and decided to lie down, I had a headache… and then I dreamed of Boromir, of how he was slain."

He shuddered and pressed closer.

"It was all so vivid, as if I had been there and seen it all happen. I awoke in cold sweat and could not stay in bed any longer, so when you came, I was there, by the window, and…and…" his voice quivered, and he could say no more.

However, after a while had passed, he spoke again.

"I was thinking, Thíri, of how many of us were affected by that cursed war. Can you see those papers over there?" he pointed to the small desk brought in for his use. "Yes, I am down to work. I have to study my duties well; I was never prepared for this, I mean, being the Steward. No, no," he forestalled my indignant hiss, "I do it little by little, just to make it easier for me when I take the position formally… though I suspect that will be but for a short while, before the King returns."

_Or before the Darkness takes us all_, I added in my thoughts. We never allowed ourselves to admit otherwise, but the thought gnawed at our minds at all times.

"So many were left without a roof over their heads, without their families… without hope. The number of the homeless is appalling, Thíri. Thank goodness, the citizens themselves try to lodge those who do not have a place to stay. You seem to know something of orphaned children?"

"Only those in our care," I said. "Many families are willing to adopt some of them."

"Good," he sighed.

After another silence, he said, "I talked to the Lady Éowyn. She is remarkable…and so sad. Merry told me a lot about her, most of which he himself does not understand to the end. I would not see her lost in despair… so many have already been lost…"

I knew that his brother was the first in his mind when he spoke these words. Before I could say a word, he continued, "I want to see this land prosper again. I am willing to put my life to it. Mere days ago, I wanted to die for it. Now, I wish to live and help rebuild it. But I cannot go on alone… I have done so far too long… Even when Boromir was alive, and Father, I was alone, all the time, and now I am weary of that."

"Now you have me, at least, sometimes even more than needed," I grumbled, drawing a weak smile from him. "And when Aragorn comes back, he will surely want you by his side," I said. "I understand he respects you and would value your counsels."

"_When_, Thíri? Not _if_?"

"Of course he will return," I said fiercely. "I know it. Call me foolish, but it will be so."

He sighed. "I do hope so. I still have to ask him about Boromir's last moments. Aragorn was with him when he…passed away."

He turned away, struggling to master fresh tears. That proved to be a difficult task, and he finally succumbed to his grief, burying his face in his hands.

But this time there was nothing hysterical in his weeping, just quiet tears over the death of a beloved brother. Occasionally, he would whisper something into his hands, as if talking to one beyond the circles of this world.

"Come, lie down," I said after a while. "You need your sleep."

He looked at me with tortured eyes, full of tears.

"I am afraid to sleep, Thíri," he confessed miserably. "What if I see that dream again?"

"You will not," I said firmly. "Did you not tell me that in your last vision of Boromir he was peaceful as he never had been in life?"

He nodded, tears spilling again, but this time his trembling lips curled up a little. "Yes. He was almost smiling. As if he was seeing a pleasant dream."

"Picture him in your mind like this, then," I said. "Just think of the quiet water, which was carrying him so gently, so caringly…"

He finally let me help him to bed. I suddenly thought he looked like a child, so lost and scared... I had forgotten he was not yet back to his health, and the ordeals he had had to endure were enough to crush a weaker man completely. Yet even the strong sometimes need a friendly hand.

"Thíri," he called pleadingly, "will you stay with me a little?"

"I will stay until you sleep."

A minute later, I had another idea.

"Faramir?"

"Yes?"

"You can also think of Éowyn. She will surely banish all Orcs from your mind."

He gave me a genuine smile this time. "Certainly so! I do feel guilty, because of thinking her ugly. More than guilty. She is the loveliest lady I have met. You know, she promised to come to the gardens, to walk with me."

I snorted; Éowyn mentioned nothing of the kind to _me_.

_Men…_

* * *

_TBC_

_That is not so exciting, is it? Wait, the next one will be a real trial for all of them..._

_Thanks for reviewing, Linda! My cold seems to be giving up, after all._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Three days later, I got thoroughly fed up with both my cousin and Éowyn.

My lunches were now eaten in solitude, for Éowyn clearly seemed to prefer Faramir's company to mine. They ended up by asking for their midday meal to be brought to the gardens, claiming it was good for the appetite. As far as I could see, they had very lengthy and very animated conversations, but when I once tried to join them, they instantly became very stiff and, had I not excused myself, I was sure they would ask me to leave them alone! Merry seemed baffled too, and had a full right to be so, for had he not saved Éowyn's life, after all?

And when I came to see how Faramir was faring in the evening, I would find him sitting on the windowsill, gazing unseeingly into the gardens. The books I had personally fetched for him were dumped in the corner on the floor (!), and all my attempts at making conversation were much similar to trying to talk to a broomstick.

But, grumblings aside, I could not help but feel relieved. So much time they had spent in their rooms, confined, almost suffocating from doing nothing and turning over in their minds the dreadful events that brought them to the House of Healing, that it did them a world of good to have the company of each other. None of the nursemaids or healers could afford keeping them company for an entire day, with so many sorely wounded soldiers and citizens around; my brief visits helped to dispel the darkness that threatened to overwhelm them, but I felt they were not enough.

Once, when I was at the Warden's office taking my orders for the day, he suddenly stopped talking and gazed into the garden that his window faced. I saw a smile lit up his face, and was quite surprised by a sight so rare.

"Master Warden?" I called to him hesitantly.

He looked my way, and I was momentarily afraid he would bark at me again. Instead, he beckoned to me, drawing my attention to something in the gardens below.

"Look, Lothíriel," he said.

There was a green lawn right before our eyes, with a young cherry tree in the middle, just about to burst into flowers. Someone had recently built a small wooden bench under the tree, and it all looked foolishly moving: the tree not even seven feet high, the shabby bench, pathetically crude, made by someone who wanted to give at least this little pleasure to the poor temporary dwellers of the Houses.

Faramir and Éowyn were seated on the grass; she rested her back on the bench, wrapping her arm leisurely around the wood, a picture of blissful carelessness; I had never seen her like this, for she ever seemed to try and cradle her broken arm to her breast, looking terribly guarded and watchful. Now even the sling was undone, as if she tried to give her body as much freedom as it could endure.

Faramir was talking to her with great eagerness, helping himself with his hands where words were not enough; it was plain to me he was recounting some very funny event, for it was accompanied by vigorous mimicking and Éowyn's peals of hearty laughter.

He got to his feet, obviously trying to perform something else, but his foot slipped on the grass and he fell down, right onto his injured shoulder. I saw a grimace of pain crease his face and was on my way to the door in an instant.

The Warden caught me by the arm.

"No, Lothíriel," he said softly.

"But he is hurting!"

"No. He is not, really," with a smile, he put his hands on my shoulders and turned me round to the window again. "Look."

Faramir was now sitting on the grass, his back to Éowyn, but facing us, and she was rubbing his shoulder very gently, talking to him quite angrily. He craned his neck to looks at her and said something with a smile; she glared at him and punched him in the back. Faramir made a 'lost puppy' face, and she immediately burst out laughing again.

"He is not," I echoed the Warden's words. "Oh, I am so glad they are better."

He smiled with immeasurable warmth and, quite unexpectedly, wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

"So am I, Thíri."

* * *

"Ladies, I need one of you to come with me, now."

That was Maelnor speaking. He looked terribly worn out, very pale, with dark circles around his hollow eyes, hair dishevelled, breath heavy and uneven. He was one of the best healers that we had, and certainly the most dedicated to his work. Sometimes I caught myself wondering if the man slept at all; he seemed to be around at any time of day or night.

His eyes focused on me.

"Oh, Lothíriel, I guess you will do for the job. Get your apron and come," he urged.

"What is it?" Miri asked, while I was putting on my apron.

Maelnor sat on a stool heavily, lowering his head into his hands.

"A boy of eight. He was somewhere in the lower circles when a building collapsed, hit by a missile, and a huge piece of wall fell down onto him, squashing his calf. I have done all I could to save the leg, but it looks like the infection has started, and it will spread higher if we do not do something quick."

I gaped at him. "Master Maelnor, are you going…"

"Yes, Lothíriel, I am. I shall amputate that leg. Do not look at me with such horror, girl! I do not take any pleasure in doing such things, but sometimes they need to be done."

"Why me?" I whispered, swallowing hard. I had seen the lancing of wounds or putting the fractured bones into place when they stuck out of the flesh, and weathered it fine, but cutting off a leg…

"You seem to have a way with children, girl. The calmer and more reassured he feels, the better. Come, I do not have all day! Does it take you that long to put the damn apron on?"

I ignored the tone, for I quite understood that his wrath was not really directed at me; he was angry at himself, for not having been able to save the poor boy's leg, for being forced to cripple the child for life…

He grabbed my arm hard just before entering the boy's room.

"No tears or swoons or sickness, young lady, or the next thing I shall amputate will be your head. Understood?"

I nodded mutely.

* * *

I was sick immediately after I left the room. I barely had time to get out of the building, and then fell to my knees, bending double with retching. I stayed there, crouched, and even after my stomach had nothing more to throw out, still the spasms seized my body, and my own tongue tasted so vile I shuddered with disgust.

A hand squeezed my shoulder.

"You are a brave girl, Lothíriel," Maelnor said softly.

I shrugged off his hand. "Leave me."

"All right. But do not stay here too long. Promise?"

I nodded several times, feeling the nausea ebb away. He stroked my head once and was gone.

I slowly got to my feet and went towards the cherry tree that Faramir and Éowyn fancied so much. I sat on the bench, feeling helpless rage surge through my body.

The poor little child… over were his days of running around like wind, climbing trees, kicking pebbles carelessly while on his way to school… All he had left was a cruelly disfigured stump that would forever place him apart from 'the rest', the healthy and fit… His parents will look at him with pity, will try to hide tears not to distress him; but he will notice it, and will suffer tenfold; he will learn to see his old friends deliberately avert their eyes from his infirmity and sound exaggeratedly cheerful…

How I hated everything at that moment: the bloody war, the Orcs, the Nazgûl, the stones of the City that were supposed to guard the boy from all harm, but in the end crippled him; I felt I could face Sauron unarmed and slay him with the mere force of my wrath. I even hated Éowyn and my cousin, for having sat here seemingly without a care in the world, jesting and laughing.

Gradually, I calmed, breathing deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of the budding cherry blossoms, made stronger by the cruelly peaceful night. I could not change this, much as I wished to.

Suddenly, I wanted to see Faramir. He would help me see the things right. He always knows how to do so.

* * *

"Thíri! What has kept you so long? Do not tell me you have been kissing a handsome wounded warrior just behind my door. Your father would not approve, and in the end I shall suffer for not guarding your virtue properly."

He was beaming at me, happy, strong, peaceful – it struck me that I had never seen him like this before. His face had none of the pallor of the past days; his eyes were sparkling with mirth that he did not even attempt to conceal. His movements had become swift and graceful, and he seemed to tremble with an anticipation of even fuller happiness.

I sank onto the floor, resting my head on the edge of the bed.

He was at my side in an instant.

"Thíri, what is it?" he asked softly, lifting my chin so that I could look him in the eye.

"You are right… I have been with a wounded…" I whispered. "I assisted a healer with amputating an eight-year-old boy's leg."

His eyes widened in horror, and he hugged me close.

"Poor girl, that must have been quite a trial for you…"

I felt rage fill me whole.

"Trial!" I screamed, pushing him away. "Oh yes, it was. I was standing there, by his side, passing the tools to the healer! And he was awake. Under sedatives, and he did not feel any pain, but he still was aware of what was happening. He will never ever run, or jump, or just walk normally! He never even held a weapon! And you…you amuse yourself with your newfound object of affection, laugh with her, boasting your strength…"

He did not let go of me; quite the opposite, he held me even closer, stroking my head.

"Hush, girl, all will be well. You are distraught, you have never seen anything like this, but it will pass. I understand, you feel so alone here, and I am sorry for having been a bit…distracted lately. I know, you also fear for your family, dreading any news of them…"

Blind with rage, I broke free of his arms and stood towering over him.

"Shut the hell up! What could _you_ understand about it! _You_ do not have anyone to wait for tidings from!"

The moment after the words left my mouth, I wished myself dead.

Never had I seen such pain in anyone's eyes. Never had I hurt anyone that deeply.

I pressed both hands to my lips, my breath coming out it ragged gasps. Faramir was sitting on the floor still, transfixed, absolutely white in the face, looking incredulously at the evil being he had thought to be his friend.

"Faramir…" I whispered brokenly, reaching my hand to touch him.

His arm shot up, as if blocking a blow. I jerked back, the room spinning around me.

He got to his feet and stumbled blindly towards the doorway, not saying a word. I watched as he disappeared in the dark hallway, groping his way along the wall.

After what seemed a whole lifetime to me, I ran after him. He was sitting on the same bench, face upturned to the blooming tree, eye staring unseeingly at the blossoms. As I took a few hesitant steps towards him, he said in a strangely calm voice, "Go away, Thíri. Please."

* * *

"Éowyn!"

She was already in bed, but jumped out of it when I burst into her room.

"Thíri! What happened?" she exclaimed, grabbing my shoulders.

"Faramir…" I moaned.

Her eyes darkened in concern. "What happened to Faramir? Has he had a setback? But he looked so full of health in the afternoon!"

Hanging my head, I told her of what had transpired between us.

When I finally had the courage to look her in the eye, I involuntarily took a step back. The fury in written on her face was enough to kill.

Without a word, she raised her hand and slapped me on the face so hard that I nearly fell. Then, she rushed to the door, but stopped a few paces from it, returned to the bed, snatched a dark blue coverlet from it and ran out.

I followed her soon. When I saw her, she was sitting beside Faramir, holding his hand and speaking to him in a very soft voice; then she wrapped him in the coverlet and made him lean on her, still talking to him with unusual tenderness.

I turned around and went away, barely lifting my feet off the ground. I did not even notice when I had left the Houses. I stumbled on and on, numb, unfeeling, save for the burning in my cheek. There were piles of debris around, so I guessed I was in a lower level of the City; I was dimly aware of the voices around me, though they were but a faint murmur in my ears.

I passed a tavern, which somehow managed to stay whole during the siege and now was buzzing with clinking of mugs and drunken voices. I turned a corner and found myself in a dead end made up by a collapsed building.

I was prepared to turn back and try to find another way, when a voice called to me, "Hey lass! Not scared to wander alone?"

I looked up and saw three men, quite drunk, but still firm on their feet. They were slowly approaching me, gap-toothed grins plastered to their faces, eyes glittering from both the ale and the anticipation of a nice ending to the evening.

I stepped back, until my back was pressed to the tavern's wall. They came closer still, speaking to me, but no words reached me through the panicked stupor that seized me.

I was aware of clammy hands gripping my wrists, pinning me to the wall, while one of them started to unbutton my dress, very slowly, now and then squeezing my breasts and guffawing into my face, and the stench from his mouth was so nauseating I nearly threw up; still, I did not make a sound.

_This is your punishment, Thíri. For making your father angry or sad. For being so weak, childish, and whimsical. You refused to show affection to the man who meant well and wanted to carry a happy memory to a hopeless battle; now you will endure the slobbery smacking kisses of drunken soldiers. You have inflicted a terrible wound on the person who showed you nothing but consideration and love and understanding; let your body redeem the horrendous blow you have dealt on that already wounded soul._

I closed my eyes and stood still, feeling tears trickle down my face. Suddenly, words once said by Aragorn leaped to my mind:

"…_Please do not do that, child. Do not try to punish yourself. I have seen a lot in this life, and I know that the punishment people bring on themselves on their own accord is usually too hard."_

I shook my head slightly. No, my lord, it is not so. For I deserved it in the full.

I stood straight, vowing not to faint. _This is my monster, my Ringwraith to face, and face it I will._

The only thing I could not bring myself to do was to keep my eyes open…

* * *

_TBC_

_Oh, poor Thíri… I know this is cruel. The whole chapter nearly made me sick, my hands are still trembling and I cannot think of any food. I guess this is my punishment for making her suffer so. I am starting to feel a bit concerned; by any chance, am I overdoing anything?_

_A big THANK YOU to the reviewers! Each and every one of your comments is treasured._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The clumsy hands proceeded with their task, and finally one of them reached inside the bodice.

It was then when I suddenly jerked back to my senses.

I opened my eyes and stared at the man, quite unbelieving that it had come to this.

Could I indeed be ready for this? Could I _welcome_ this brutal violation?

_Thíri, something must be terribly wrong with you. How can you possibly put things right by allowing a band of drunken ruffians take you? Will Faramir feel any better if this happens? And what about your father and brothers? What about you, you silly child?_

All this flashed through my mind, and suddenly the stupor broke, giving way to frantic search for a possible escape.

Unfortunately, I had wasted too much time on stupid heroics. I should have fought at once, I should have kicked and clawed like mad; they were quite drunk and I had had a good chance. But the moment was lost, and I had to think of another way.

Suddenly, there was a clinking of metal round the corner, then I heard orders given in a steady voice. A patrol!

But before I could cry out, a broad stinking palm was pressed to my mouth.

"Hush, girlie, we will just wait until they pass," I heard.

Horrified, I tried to wriggle out of their grip, but all was in vain. _No, no, it cannot be… They are so near, I just need to make a sound…_

An idea struck me like a lightning.

Giving a loud sigh, I relaxed completely, letting my head loll to one side. _Please, let them believe me unconscious…_

They did. The two that were holding me against the wall loosened their clasp on my wrists, and the one who tried to keep me from screaming was forced to try and prevent me from falling and possibly making a noise among all that rubble.

The moment my mouth was free, I cried out at the top of my lungs.

All my life, I had been scorned by my brothers because they said I could never scream in a nice feminine way, with a proper high-pitched shriek most ladies would give at the sight of a mouse.

Never had I been so grateful for the bellow I had been gifted with instead.

The gang tried to hush me, but for them it was too late. The patrol were already on their way to my aid.

Of the commotion that followed, I had a very vague idea. The relief was too great, and I just sank onto the ground limply, feeling waves of sickness return. After a while, I was aware of a gloved hand on my shoulder.

"Speak your name, girl," a commanding voice demanded. "Where have you come from?"

"Lothíriel," I breathed. "The…the Houses…Houses of Healing."

And then all was black.

* * *

When I regained my senses, I was in my room in the Houses, lying on the bed. The Warden was there, and a healer, and Ioreth. When I saw the latter, I groaned inwardly. No doubt the whole of the Houses would soon be savouring my adventures of late.

The Warden bowed over me, eyeing me with deep concern.

"Lothíriel, it is all right, you are back here," he said soothingly.

"Whatever made you roam the City alone at night?" Ioreth grumbled. "The silliest thing ever…"

The Warden cut her short with a single glance. "Madam, there will be time for this later. Now, we have to check if she has any injuries. Here, Lothíriel, let me look at you."

He reached a hand to me, and in a split second I was sitting, hugging myself protectively and shaking my head.

"Oh, I understand," he said softly. "You would rather have a lady do this, would you not? Perhaps Ioreth…"

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no…"

"All right," he nodded reassuringly. "Who would you like me to fetch?"

Before I realised it, the name was out of my mouth. "Éowyn…"

"I shall send for her immediately."

"No, no," I said in the same fierce whisper. "She must be sleeping now. She…she will not want to see me."

The Warden smiled. "It was the Lady Éowyn who first raised the alarm. We had done a thorough search of the Houses and were preparing to go out to the City when the patrol brought you back and told us… what had happened. Both the lady and your cousin have been beside themselves with worry. So, shall I fetch her here?"

I simply nodded, desperately trying to hold back tears.

* * *

When Éowyn appeared in the doorway, with all the rest gone, I could not bring myself to look her in the eye.

She stopped a couple of paces away, and all I saw was her hand gripping the cloth of her white skirt.

"Thíri…" came a hesitant voice. I cast a tentative look at her.

I had not quite expected to see what I saw in her face. There was compassion, and guilt, and horror, and helplessness, all of it mixed together, and suddenly she rushed to my side, embracing me so tightly that I could not breathe. That was when I broke down.

I wept and wept, sobbing into the soft fabric of her dress, unable to stop. Then, choking, I started to tell her about what had nearly happened. She never said a word, she just stroked my head, twining her fingers in my tangled hair, rocking me slowly back and forth.

I finally quieted, but was reluctant to leave her arms, so we sat there silently, pressed together, and I felt totally exhausted. Éowyn bent her head to drop a kiss on my temple.

"I am so glad you are back safe," she whispered. "The hours we spent here, searching for you everywhere… and then someone said you had been seen leaving the Houses… Had anything happened to you, I should have never forgiven myself, for what I did to you."

She drew in a shaky breath, putting her hand on the back of my head and pressing me closer to herself. When I had enough strength, I pulled away slowly, looking up at her. To my surprise, her face was streaked with tears.

"Éowyn… why are you weeping?"

She shook her head sorrowfully and wiped the tears away; then, as she was prepared to speak, the door opened hesitantly and in came Faramir.

"Thíri!" he breathed in relief, instantly next to us. "Oh, cousin, what a silly thing it was that you did."

I nearly chuckled, so suddenly refreshed I felt. The slight irritation in his voice made me feel a good deal better. I started to hope that everything could yet be put right.

"I know," I said sheepishly.

"Now I do not like that tone of yours," he proclaimed. "Better your usual bickering than this…submission."

I felt my face flush in shame. "I think I got a bit too far in my bickering, Faramir. I am not even asking you for forgiveness…"

"You do not need to, cousin," he said, his eyes radiating warmth and affection, with a tinge of concern deep within. "Let us not speak of that now. But look at your dress! It is quite chilly here, cousin. You might wish to button it up."

As I occupied myself with the task, he took the coverlet and wrapped it around me like a warm cocoon.

"Better?" he smiled, reaching his hand to stroke my cheek.

As if entranced, I watched the hand approach my face, a big, strong male hand…

Before I could control myself, I screamed and clutched at Éowyn again.

Faramir's hand jerked back. He looked totally confused and hurt.

"What have I done?" he exclaimed.

"Nothing," Éowyn said, embracing me once more. "But you had better leave now. I will explain it all to you later."

He nodded obediently, looking a bit scared.

Already at the door, he turned and cast a long look at me. He seemed to want to say something, but then changed his mind and left.

* * *

Alone with Éowyn, I felt despondent.

"Oh no," I sighed. "Why do I keep hurting him?"

Éowyn sighed too. "This is not your fault. After what you have been through, it is not surprising you cannot stand a man's touch."

"But he is my cousin and I love him!" I protested.

Éowyn straightened her back, as if preparing for a plunge. "I could not abide my own brother in the circumstances, though I did my best to conceal it. But then, we are not the same person."

"Éowyn, you…" my throat closed in horror.

She nodded several times, then passed her hand over her brow, as if trying to wipe away the memories.

"There was a man in my uncle's court… his name was Gríma Wormtongue… yes, a sweet name, would you not say?" she smiled wryly at my grimace. "And suited him wonderfully. He did everything to lure my uncle into darkness, and I am sure that Théodred, my cousin, the heir to the throne, would still be living if not for him… though I may be wrong here.

"He would stalk me everywhere, in the hallways, in the stables, in the chambers… everywhere. First he tried to court me; when I turned him down, he moved to threats. He said he would make Uncle send Éomer on a hopeless mission if I do not show any compliance… That did not work with me either, for I simply said that my brother would rather die than risk my honour… oh, how I shook inside after that, fearing he would do as he threatened!

"But he did not; he was a clever one, and he realised he would not win my affections that way. So once…it was night time, and I had gone out of my chamber for a breath of fresh air, sleepless with constant worry; and he followed me and tried to force me…"

I gripped her hand tightly, feeling its faint shaking. She was breathing hard, as if after a long run uphill; then she slowly took her hand out of my grip and rubbed her brow again.

"He was a skinny man," she continued, her voice surprisingly steady, "and I had not expected anything like that from him, only it seemed that his strength doubled with his mad desire, and mine diminished. And all the while I had to be mindful not to cry, for if Éomer or Théodred ever learned of this, the consequences for them might have turned grievous. My uncle was too far gone under the spells of that evil creature, and could be persuaded to punish both his nephew and his son most severely. So I fought silently, until at last I managed to bring my knee up and into his groin.

"He bent double and hissed in pain, and I pushed him away. He fell and banged his head on the wall, and I saw blood on the floor… Thíri, I was so strangely elated by that, I could have danced for joy! He was momentarily stunned, and I thought of how easy it would be to drive my sword through him and end it once and for all.

"Of course I did not do anything, but, you know, what stopped me was the fear that I would be discovered. Sword wounds bleed a lot, my skirts would be stained with his foul blood, and I was not willing to be executed for the murder of that filth.

"So I left him there. None of us ever mentioned this to anyone. I suppose he still feared that my brother's vengeance might catch him before he could plot anything, so he preferred to keep quiet; I feared for my brother and cousin… I do not know if I was right to have been thinking so. Perhaps, had I mentioned that, justice would still be done, perhaps my uncle would have reacted somehow… I will never know that. And then, Aragorn came with his companions and delivered all of us."

The tone of her voice changed almost imperceptibly, became softer and dreamier, and I knew it.

"You are in love with him, are you not?" I said.

Her reaction surprised me. She suddenly laughed and hugged me again. "_In love_ with him? I do not think so. I would rather say I have passed through this already. I do not need _any_ man beside me."

There was a touch of bitterness in her laughter, and…and a little too much assertiveness in her last statement.

* * *

Before Éowyn left me to myself, I asked her to send Faramir to me.

She looked at me doubtfully. "Are you certain? I should not like any of you be hurt any more than you have already been."

"I am better, Éowyn. It is just that if I do not talk to him now, tomorrow I might not dare…"

She gave me a big and warm smile. "To think of the lengths I am prepared to go for you! Calling upon a man at this hour!"

When Faramir came in, I was out of bed; I rushed to him immediately and put my arms round him. He hugged me back, quite hesitantly. I was pleased I felt no fear or revulsion this time.

"Forgive me," I whispered, rubbing my cheek on his soft tunic. "I do not know what possessed me. I promise, I shall never want to hurt anyone like that. You least of all, Faramir, for I am so grateful to you and…and I love you so…"

"I love you too, Thíri," he said. "You do not need to torture yourself so. What you said was the truth… cruel, but true."

"It was not," I said firmly. "There are your friends there, the Rangers, and Beregond, and the Halflings, and Aragorn, and Mithrandir. And there is our family. You do have so many people to wait for, and so many remember that you are here waiting for them!"

He swallowed hard and lifted my face up to kiss my brow. "Thank you, Thíri," he said softly.

"Whatever for? My silliness?"

He shook his head, smiling at me very tenderly. "For saying 'our family' just now."

We stood together a while longer, and I felt wonderfully at peace.

"You know, Faramir," I said, "if for this moment I had to go through all of it again, I would gladly do so."

His eyebrows shot up indignantly.

"No, not so gladly, I think," I admitted hastily. "But next time I shall know how to deal with such…" I swallowed the name.

Faramir took me by the shoulders and gave me quite a violent shake. "There will be no next time, you silly child. You have made me a promise, but I want another one from you. You will never – do you hear me, never! – put yourself at such a risk again. Do you realise what I was going through?"

Suddenly, he let me go and sat onto the bed, shaking with a sudden peal of laughter.

"Forgive me, Thíri," he said at last. "I am behaving just like my father did when we were children and engaged ourselves in something like climbing down these very walls."

The memory of his family saddened him again. I seated myself at his side and said, "Well, I guess you have every right to speak to me like this, given my latest escapade."

"So, do I have that promise?" he demanded.

I sighed resignedly. "On one condition only."

"And what is that?"

I cast him a pleading look. "I am hungry."

He laughed, once more embracing me. "You are a wonder, Thíri. You remind me of the Halflings sometimes. But you will have your late dinner at once, my dear lady."

Later, we ate together (Faramir seemed quite hungry himself), and talked about everything and nothing, and Faramir confessed that he quite liked Éowyn, but I was not to mentioned it to her, or to anyone, ever, and I promised him that, but teased him rather mercilessly about it, so he threatened to tie me up and throw me out of the window.

He left to take the dishes back to the kitchens, and returned when I was already in bed.

"Came to wish me goodnight?" I asked.

He shook his head and lowered himself onto the floor. "I would like to completely exchange our places and be here with you until you sleep. See, I am even sitting on the floor, though in my room it seemed a lot cleaner."

I yawned and rolled onto my side, facing him.

"It is so good to have you here, cousin," I murmured before falling asleep. "How nice that you were wounded and did not ride off with the host."

The last thing I heard was a soft chuckle and the words, "I shall remember that," said with mock menace.

* * *

_TBC_

_Thank you, my faithful reviewers, Steelelf, Elenhin, Catwraith, Lindahoyland, Raksha the Demon, Elijahcat, and Anne234. Your comments make my days!_

_Dearest Raksha, I have sent a more detailed thing to your address, if you are interested._

_The story is nearing the end, by the way!_

_Yours,_

_Lilan_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The day that followed made me regret my adventures for at least a thousand times. First of all, Faramir was foolish enough to stay with me for the night, falling asleep in his chair; I, being exhausted by the ordeal, slept soundly until the sun was high in the sky, and no one wanted to disturb me (I guess they were nice people, after all). But later it seemed the Warden wanted to check how my cousin was faring, and, not having found him in his own room, went to look for him in mine. Somehow, we had started to be seen as one, and it gave me a very warm feeling.

Faramir was just stirring from sleep when the Warden boomed over us, "Lord Faramir! I thought at least you would be reasonable enough to take care of your health! But no, you spend the night in a chair instead of bed!"

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to pretend I was not there at all. By that time, I had learned that the Warden's wrath was a short-time thing, but it still could scare me badly, especially if it was the first thing to hear in the morning.

When I risked a glance up, Faramir was stretching his limbs, wincing slightly from the pain he still felt in his shoulder. The Warden sighed and reached for the collar of his tunic.

"Here, let me have a look," he murmured, undoing the laces and starting to prod the injured area. "It looks almost healed, my lord, but must feel a bit tender still. And you certainly should not sleep like this!" he concluded indignantly, pulling the tunic back.

Faramir laughed quietly. "I wonder if you ever talk to your charges like this, Thíri. Must be a healer's prerogative."

I ventured a chuckle too.

The Warden appeared untouched by our mirth. "I can see you are feeling a lot better, young lady. Consider getting out of that bed and make yourself useful if you please!"

When he was out, Faramir gave an audible sigh of relief. "I have always been a bit in awe of the man," he confessed. "I know, of course, that he means well and does not really feel angry, but I cannot help it. But then, it was the same even with Father, and I have been Steward for mere days!"

"He is right, by the way," I said. "You should not have stayed here like that. You must be feeling stiff all over."

"Oh no," he groaned. "Two healers in one morning… "

* * *

All the people I met considered their sacred duty to point out to me my extreme foolishness and childishness; that all was of course true, but I was fed up indeed by lunchtime.

I found Éowyn sprawled across the bed, eyeing the ceiling with the air of extreme thoughtfulness. I had to call her name twice before she heeded me.

"What is it that occupies your thoughts so much?" I enquired, placing the tray with food onto the small table and sitting down at her side.

To my intense surprise, she blushed and produced an uncertain laugh.

"Oh…nothing much," she said unconvincingly. "What have you brought today?"

"Food," I said.

"Indeed," she snorted.

"Éowyn, there is a war going on, in case you have not noticed," I laughed. "You seem most distracted today."

She sat up and embraced me, smiling. "I shall eat whatever you have brought, Thíri. I am hungry, by the way."

As she was emptying the bowl of soup, I could not help but think of the pale young creature I met days before. The one beside me was so different you would not recognise her as the same person. Her face was round and rosy, and she had gained weight, but the biggest change happened to her eyes. They were no longer hollow and empty; they gleamed with health and vigour and…something else.

There was a sudden rap at the door.

"Éowyn?"

There was my cousin, carrying a pile of books. I noted the way he addressed her.

"_Éowyn_?" I said with mock surprise. "You forget yourself, Lord Faramir."

Éowyn laughed, blushing again. "It is all right, Thíri, we agreed on calling each other our given names."

Faramir just nodded. "I came to show Éowyn some books I told her about, she seemed interested to hear more of them… Do you want to stay here?"

"No," Éowyn got to her feet resolutely. "Let us go outside. Would you like to accompany us, Thíri?"

It cost me an enormous effort not to laugh at my cousin's expression. I was quite sure he would do something terrible to me if I agreed.

"No, Éowyn, I fear I have work to do," I said. "Do you want me to help you with your cloak?"

Apparently, she did not.

* * *

Once in the hallway with Faramir, I nudged him in the ribs.

"Books! Cousin, you are a dear. She will think you are a poor fighter and want to protect you, eventually. That is a clever move."

"I am not a poor fighter," he protested. "Thíri, I must point it out to you that I am your elder and your liege until the King returns. You do not seem to show me much respect, though. Teasing the Steward of Gondor!"

All the way through this rebuke, he was hugging me tightly to himself, smiling. I sighed, leaning lightly on him. It pained me to think of all the blows he had had to endure, and I wished fervently, with all my heart, that he had more moments like these ones…

Then I remembered who it was that Éowyn loved. I knew that I would rather have died than revealed any of her words to him, for the sakes of both of them. Éowyn obviously liked him; might even love him in time; but once she was reminded of her unrequited feeling to the future King, she could withdraw again, become cold and distant, and suffer as she did once.

And Faramir…

There was still pain in his eyes when he thought of his family, lost in the terrors of the war, but there was hope, too, now that he had another to take care of…

The door burst open, and Éowyn practically ran out, bumping into Faramir as she did so. She gasped and touched his arm hesitantly.

"I have not hurt you, have I?" she gasped.

"No," my cousin smiled, letting go of me. "Shall we go?"

With a very insincerely apologetic smile to me, he led her away.

As I watched them, someone took hold of my hand. I looked there and saw Merry, grinning at the two down the hallway. I pressed his fingers with mine.

"They are very fond of each other, are they not?" he said softly.

"My cousin is, definitely," I replied.

Merry's grin grew wider. "She is, too. Just give her time."

I turned to face him. "Merry," I said gravely, "I bet you a keg of ale they will kiss not later than tomorrow."

He looked genuinely puzzled. "Why do you think so?"

"She bumped into him when she was leaving the room," I explained. "In my experience, people who do so eventually kiss."

* * *

It was cold.

For the past two or three days, we stopped lighting fires in the rooms; it had been quite warm. But on that day, the cold wind was blowing, and it was darker that usual.

I went to check on the children, and found them very quiet and frightened. After chatting to them with false cheer, I felt drained of all strength. Pretending was a difficult job, and if not for Merry, who agreed to sing every single song he knew, they would hardly have agreed to eat their meals.

Having finished with the children, quite a bit later than usual, I fetched a tray with food and rushed to Éowyn's room. There I found her, fully dressed, wrapped in a long warm brown cloak.

Forestalling my questions, she shook her head.

"No, Thíri, I am not hungry," she said. "I am going for a walk."

The look on her face suggested an appointment with some errant Ringwraith, rather than something that peaceful.

"Will you not be waiting for Faramir?" I asked tentatively.

She shot me a sharp glance, then sighed and lowered herself into a chair, looking at her feet. She sighed and rubbed her brow with her palm; I had noticed her do that before, when she was in search for words.

"Do you love your cousin, Thíri?" she asked.

The question was very unexpected.

"But of course I do!" I exclaimed. "How could I not to! Yes, I know that sometimes I am a selfish girl, and the thing I said to him… well, you know, it was horrible and I have not forgiven myself for doing that and will not for some time, but I love him. He is the only family I have here…"

"Exactly!" she cried. "There is no one else for you to love, so you chose him, because he was the only one near… You said once you did not care for either of your cousins much when you lived in Dol Amroth and they came to visit, did you not?"

"Éowyn, wait," I raised my hand to stop her and was amused to use a gesture borrowed from Faramir. "That did not happen because they were undeserving or something. I was simply much younger than they were, and they never seemed to take me seriously, and cousin Boromir, I regret to say this, but he looked slightly annoyed every time I interrupted a conversation…that made me quite mad. Now, when I learned that Faramir was here, I did not know what to do at first, how to talk to him, but later, as I knew him better… I do realise it was partly due to my wish to have someone from my family near, but it is also Faramir, what he is, that made me want to be closer to him."

She covered her eyes with her hand, leaning forward.

"Éowyn…" I touched her shoulder lightly, "do you…"

She jumped to her feet and pressed her palm to my lips, preventing any other words from escaping.

"Please, do not," she whispered, then turned abruptly and was gone.

I sat numbly on her bed, until Faramir came, carrying a big bundle. His eyes were gleaming.

"Thíri?" he said, surprised. "Where is Éowyn?"

"She left," I said, not wanting to even try to explain her motives. "Must be in the gardens."

Faramir looked about him with the air of utmost conspiracy. "Look," he whispered, unfolding the bundle.

I gasped to see what was inside. Aunt Finduilas's mantle! Not that I remembered my aunt, but I had heard endless stories of that garment and until that moment I did not know rightly if it had been a betrothal gift, or a gift on the occasion on one of my cousins' birth, or just a gift. One thing I could be sure of: Uncle Denethor had certainly had his moments, and the evidence of one of them was here before my eyes.

I stroked the soft fabric, which seemed to still preserve the warmth of her last owner and…and of the love that gave her the mantle. I suddenly felt very sad. I guessed what Faramir was going to do, and it pained me to think of his father, who once gifted his beloved with this, and then lost her. For the first time, my uncle was to me not the Steward of Gondor (I still had difficulties seeing Faramir in that position), not a stern old man, not my father's old friend, but a soul who could love another…

It pained me to think of Faramir, whose heart was so utterly lost to another lovely lady, and that lady could also become but a shadow to him…

But then, it could be not so hopeless. Perhaps Faramir saw it all more clearly. Perhaps he could make her see it with the same clarity. Make her see him, and herself, too.

"Do you think she will like it?" Faramir asked.

I forced myself to smile. "She will be a fool not to. But you had better go to her now. She might be quite cold."

* * *

When he left, I could not stand still for a moment, or do anything, for that matter. After a few minutes of pacing the hallway restlessly, I followed him into the gardens.

They were on the walls, looking out. Faramir's hands rested on Éowyn's shoulders, and she wore the mantle. I sighed with relief; I had feared she might decline the gift. She was holding the cloak under her throat, to ward off the chill that was seeping into my body as well.

She pointed out eastwards and asked something. Faramir flinched, as if in pain, but answered her, speaking first calmly, and then with a tender smile on his lips.

She turned to him, eyeing him very gravely, her face kind but sorrowful. She spoke too, shaking her head as she did, and Faramir was just about to say something, when suddenly the wind died down, and for a long moment all was shrouded in a dreary silence.

I fell to my knees; I was chilled to the bone, frozen with fear; my heart beat slowly and steadily, but every beat seemed to echo through all my body. I clasped my hands together tightly, striving to keep the little warmth that was still in me; strangely enough, my hands, which usually went cold first, were now the only source of heat.

I looked at Faramir and Éowyn. To my surprise, they were standing very close to each other, and they were holding hands. Both their faces were white as death, eyes wide open; Éowyn's hair, flowing on the wind a mere minute before, now hung loosely down her slender figure. Suddenly, I was aware of a great wave of darkness towering up in the East; I shut my eyes in terror, once again wishing to be far, far away from all this…

When I opened my eyes again, I nearly wept for joy, for there were they, still standing on the wall, and Éowyn's head was on Faramir's shoulder, and his arms were around her, and then he stooped and kissed her brow.

And I knew that, for me, the joyous song brought by the Eagles minutes later was far less the symbol of victory than these two, standing as one, defying the darkness together, in a great swirl of light and wind that mingled their hair and sent it streaming in the air.

* * *

"I am leaving the Houses, Thíri."

The voice was very steady and calm, and still it made my heart tighten painfully in my chest.

"But, Faramir, why?"

He smiled ruefully. "I am the Steward, remember? The King is returning, and I have to make all the necessary preparations. I have tarried here too long, I think."

He sounded…hollow. Empty of all feelings, hurt to the point when you stop bothering. I stared at him, unbelieving, at the same man who radiated such happiness back there on the walls…

As he prepared to leave, I caught his arm, finally able to act.

"Faramir, what happened?"

He looked long into my eyes, then sighed. "I think you deserve an explanation, Thíri. Fine. I shall give you that. She does not need me, or want me. She said that much to me. Oh, no, not in these words, of course, but I understood. I have tried and failed."

I looked at him, terribly at a loss for words.

He took a step forward and embraced me.

"Take care of yourself, cousin," he whispered. "I…I do not think I shall visit you here soon. Thank you for all you have done for me."

I held him as tightly as I could, feeling tears slowly course down my cheeks. He noticed them when he pulled away and gently wiped them.

"Do not weep, Thíri," he said. "We have been through harder times, have we not?"

I felt strange pride at this 'we', and smiled weakly.

"I love you, my little Thíri," he said, kissing me on the cheek.

"I love you too," I said, returning the kiss.

_But that is not enough_, I sighed when he left.

* * *

_TBC_

_Well, not as cheerful as I planned it, but I am a bit sad myself, so it took its effect on the story. But all of this is coming to an end!_

_Thank you for reviewing!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

As two more days passed, I became increasingly worried about Éowyn.

She was very quiet; in fact, she hardly spoke to anyone. I tried to spend more time with her, but my attempts at conversation were broken by the impenetrable wall that she had built around herself. She answered me, but her replies came as if from afar; her eyes seemed to looks though me, not really heeding me. The colour that she had gained during her stay in the Houses was now gone, and she once again was as pale as the day I had met her for the first time.

She ate well, but to me it seemed she did not even know what the food was. I brought the food to her, and she would eat it obediently, but only succeeded in making me want her to scream and hurl the bowls across the room. Then she said 'thank you' in a bleak, expressionless voice, and turn to the window; then she put on the cloak Faramir had given her and went outside. At other times, she would just sit stroking the soft cloth or pressing it to her cheek.

My heart ached for her, and I was most angry with Faramir, for not coming and doing something about it. Even the dumbest person would have been able to see what ailed Éowyn.

She spent whole hours on the walls, on the same place where I had seen her with Faramir on the day when the Dark Lord fell. Her gaze wandered to the East, where her brother was, and also he who she had believed to have her heart in his keeping… and yet, it was not so, for she barely reacted to people mentioning Aragorn's name, and tried at all times to keep the blue mantle within reach.

I tried to bring the matter up with the Warden, but he dismissed me impatiently ("Lothíriel, do you think I have no other cares than to deal with moody young ladies?"); and as for Faramir…

He came to the Houses of Healing once, checking briefly upon me. He looked worn and tired, and all I got from him was a wan smile. I did feel for him; it must have been terribly hard for him to enter his father's chambers which now by right belonged to him.

I got him to sit down and said, "Now I am going to bring something to eat, and I expect you to keep me company. Really, cousin, you seem most intent on coming back to your cosy little room. Do you think the King will like the idea of bringing you back from death's door every time he comes to Minas Tirith?"

He smiled again and allowed me to make a little fuss over him.

When we had eaten (he quite half-heartedly, only to please me, I suspected), there was a soft knock on my door.

"Letters, Lothíriel," Miri said, peeking into the room, and smiled at me warmly.

I gasped and reached for the small pack uncertainly. These were the first tangible tidings from our family.

Faramir, very pale, fidgeted with the clasp of his tunic. Of course, the mighty Eagles had not spoken of any losses, and we, being too weary of grief, chose to believe that our loved ones were safe…though nothing spoke in favour of that.

I seated myself next to at my cousin's side and slowly lowered the letters onto the bed.

There were four of them.

One for me, written in my father's sure hand; another one, in the same hand, for Faramir. There was another for him, addressed for the Steward of the City, and I guessed it was from Aragorn. There was also a letter for Éowyn, which I put aside, to give it to her later.

Faramir swallowed and whispered coarsely, "Shall I open it first, or will you?"

I sighed and reached for the one from my father. "I think I can do that, cousin."

My hands trembled so badly I nearly tore it, but I finally managed to break the seal and open the letter.

First, my vision was too blurred with icy fear; all I could see were my father's big letters, and then there were names…Elphir, Erchirion, Amrothos…

I let the piece of parchment float to the floor and sagged heavily against my cousin.

"They are coming back… all of them…" a voice like my own said. Faramir embraced me, resting his cheek on the top of my head; I felt his heavy breath on my hair.

"All of them…" he repeated, stroking my head. "Hush, Thíri, do not weep…it is all right…"

"What? But I am not…" I reached to my cheek and was surprised to find it wet; then I met his eyes, and they too were moist. He smiled at me again, and I again leaned onto him, closing my eyes.

After a while, Faramir picked up Éowyn's letter and handed it to me.

"I hate to bother you, Thíri," he said softly, "but I think she will be very happy to receive this."

I sat straight and looked him in the eye.

"I think it is you who should give it to her, Faramir."

He only shook his head sadly. "No, cousin. Do not try to make us all believe that which is not true. Take the letter to her, for my sake. I hate to think she suffers, not knowing a thing of her brother and…others."

* * *

For the first time in these long days, Éowyn's face lit up when she opened her letter. She read it hastily, just like I had done, first just to ensure that her brother was well indeed, and then again, more carefully.

When she raised her eyes on me, they were shining with joy.

"Oh, Thíri, he is all right, and the two Halflings who had been to the very heart of the Dark Lord's realm are living, too, and Aragorn, and our dear Pippin! They are all coming back! Thíri, can you believe this is possible!"

She went to the open window and caught the sash to steady herself.

"This is wonderful," she whispered, her eyes once again turned towards the East. "Éomer is asking me to come to Cormallen…"

I stood there, strangely happy, for I understood at that moment that her heart held not love for the King-to-be any longer.

She had just mentioned him, among others, not the first of them, not the last – just someone dear to her, among other friends, but there was no love in her voice, trembling with joy.

Filled with resolve, I stepped towards her. Now was the time for truth.

"Éowyn," I asked, catching her by the arm, "are you going to Cormallen?"

She eyed me, looking almost scared.

"Are you?" I insisted.

Her lips quivered, and she turned to the window again. I saw her press her cheek to the sash, closing her eyes.

"Éowyn?"

"I…I do not want to," came the answer. "I can wait for my brother here. I do not want them all to stare at me and whisper behind my back. I am tired of that awe, Thíri. Here, I am safe and comfortable, all are so kind to me, and…and they _see_ me, not put me on some damn high pedestal to behold in wonder. All this time, I have felt so ordinary, unlike when I was back home, for there, although I was one of them, they never _saw_ me. They worshipped me, and bowed to me, but they never dared ask me of what I wanted, of what I feared, of what I…loved. And suddenly, I was here, among hundreds of those hurt more sorely, and by all reason I had to be neglected and forgotten, and yet…"

I watched her graceful back, wondering if all this was about us healers or a different person.

She turned around, piercing me with her fierce gaze.

"I know I shall have to return. But now, while I still can, I shall stay here."

"Just one more question, Éowyn," I said. "What about Faramir?"

Tears sprang to her eyes quite unexpectedly, and she held her hand to her face. I heard a muffled sob, but when I moved to comfort her, she jerked away and ran out of the room.

* * *

"All right, Lothíriel, let us see if I understand you. You want me to see the Lord Steward and inform him of the Lady Éowyn's condition?" the Warden asked, dangerously softly.

But this time I was not scared off so easily.

"Yes, Master Warden. Are we to care about our charges' bodily health only?"

He cocked his head at me and suddenly smiled. "Why do you not go to him, lady?"

I shrugged indefinitely. "He might not listen to me."

"And pray tell me, why should he heed my words, young lady?"

I had a suspicion the man was teasing me. The fall of the Dark Lord played most unexpected tricks on people's minds. Even the Warden was revealing his playful side, and that baffled me a bit.

I put my hands flat onto the polished surface of his desk and, leaning towards him, said, "Because you will tell him that she is ailing, and that you fear for her health…and that she seemed much better when he was here. Which will be the truth."

"All right, Lothíriel," he consented, grinning at me. "Let us be matchmakers for these two fools…"

I heaved a sigh of relief. "So you will do that?"

"On one condition only," he said, turning as grave as he had been in earlier days.

I steeled myself for some demand. Actually, I was prepared to do anything.

He beckoned to me, and when I leaned close enough, whispered fiercely, "Under no circumstances are you to reveal to anyone that I have just called the Ruling Steward of Gondor and the sister to the future King of Rohan fools!"

* * *

Someone knocked at my door, and that sounded quite urgent.

"Enter!" I said, sliding down from the windowsill where I had been sitting. The number of our charges declined, and now I could afford a longer break.

"I can't," came a voice, muffled by the heavy door. "Please, open the door, Lothíriel."

Puzzled, I went to open it and stood face to face with the Warden, who held in front of him a big tray laden with food and two mugs of ale. He glided into the room, passing me, and placed his load onto the table.

"Whatever is the meaning of this?" I demanded.

He shook his head, then grabbed my hand and pulled me out. "Just wanted to show you something," he whispered conspiratorially. "Then we can eat and drink together. Now quick, or we shall be late."

"Late? Master Warden, for goodness' sake…"

"Come!"

He pulled me out into the gardens and pointed at something.

Someone.

Two of them.

"In full view of the City," I shook my head in mock disapproval. "I should not expect that from Faramir."

We turned and went back towards the Houses.

"You know, maybe he knows exactly what he is doing," the Warden said thoughtfully.

"How so?"

"Well, now he will _have_ to marry her. But that is such a boring subject, Lothíriel! Come, let us eat and drink. I promised the Halfling Meriadoc to bring you some ale should it come to kisses between the two of them."

"Hate ale," I grumbled.

* * *

The day of the coronation was splendid.

I had never seen that many people before. Many families that had been sent away before the siege now returned, and the City was full of women and children, all rushing around with great bunches of flowers, trying to tuck them into every crack, making even the half-destroyed buildings look like flowerbeds. There were minstrels and musicians from Dol Amroth, who seemed delighted to see me in the City. Apparently, things there were well, so my tiny qualms over having left my land in such situation were soothed very easily.

In the last evening of March, Faramir came to collect Éowyn and me from the Houses, and we went to the walls.

"Look," he said, pointing to the fields.

The vast expanse of the Pelennor was glittering with fires. There were pavilions up to the horizon; as darkness fell, they were not visible, only the fires filled the night with faint smell of smoke. They brought a sense of unreality, as if reflecting the twinkling stars up in the sky, only brighter and closer, and warmer, meaning the world to us, because they were giving warmth to those who were so much waited for here.

"Many people are going to stay up all night, watching and waiting," Faramir said softly.

"Me too," Éowyn and I said together.

"You are mad," Faramir said.

"No, we are not," Éowyn protested. "I mean it. I do not feel sleepy at all."

"Me either," I said. "I want to stay."

Faramir shook his head sorrowfully. "As you wish, ladies. Do as you please, but I am going to bed…however tempting it might be to stay," he added playfully, burying his face in Éowyn's hair for a moment. "But I can barely stand on my feet. I shall send you some warm cloaks, and the guards will stay here with you."

He did as he promised, and we spend that night together with Éowyn, huddled close to each other and wrapped in two thick woollen cloaks that were big enough to cover us both.

We must have dosed off before sunrise, but awoke when the bells began to ring, and the banners fluttered in the wind.

"My lady," one of the guards called, pointing up to the Tower of Ecthelion.

And there it was…the white standard of the Stewards, gleaming in the morning sun, as if showing the one who was still to come the way to the City of his forefathers. We stood looking at it, drinking it in, and it struck me that I had never really seen that pure white cloth for what it was: a canvas on which a new history would be written. I turned my head slightly to look at Éowyn, and suddenly saw the same awe and the same fierce pride in her eyes as she turned her gaze upon the Pelennor, upon the silver ranks advancing the City at a steady pace.

"Let us come down," she said, her voice hoarse with emotion.

So we did, and joined Faramir and other high officials at the barrier put up in the place of the gates, which had been destroyed during the siege.

My cousin was very pale and, it seemed to me, shaken; he smiled bravely at us, nodding at the casket the four Guards of the Citadel were carrying. I knew that inside had to be the crown of Earnur, which he had brought from Rath Dinen.

As the host approached, Aragorn coming first, with the Rangers of the North in silver and grey, I looked at Faramir again, and my heart tightened painfully in my chest.

His eyes were pools of anguish, dark and unseeing; his hands grasped the White Rod nervously, as if he wanted to crush it in his grip; in one moment, he turned his head to look at the multitude of people awaiting their fathers, husbands, sons and brothers. I saw him swallow and close his eyes for an instant; then he steeled himself again, looking in front of him with determination that nearly broke my heart.

I glanced to catch Éowyn's glance, but she seemed deeply in conversation with the Marshal form Rohan and did not heed her beloved's plight.

I looked frantically to the sides, as if hoping to find a solution in someone's face…and then it came, and I nearly laughed in relief.

"Wait just a little more, Faramir," I whispered. "I have a gift for you."

* * *

_TBC_

_Yes, she has a gift for him, but you'll have to wait a bit!_

_Linda, there will be more Eomer. Promise._

_Elehnin, thank you so much for your long review! Well, I know they are usually long, but I liked how you commented on the humour in my stories._

_Yours,_

_Lilan_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

With Aragorn, I saw several other figures.

Of course, first my gaze was fixed to my father, who, despite all the solemnity of the moment, turned his head slightly to Mithrandir and said something to him, a smile on his lips. The wizard nodded thoughtfully, smiling slightly in return.

I sighed quietly; since the arrival of the letters, I had feared that all this was a trick of my mind, a dream that would vanish into thin air with the first rays of morning light. Now, as I saw my father walking slowly towards me, obviously in good health and happy, another burden seemed to slide down gently from my shoulders. My brothers were not to be seen, and I chuckled softly to myself, wondering if they were not purposely kept away, for fear they might somehow spoil the festivities.

I also saw my friend Merry and his cousin Pippin, and with them there were two other Halflings, looking pretty lively, though very thin and pale, especially the one with slightly darker hair, whom I guessed to be Frodo. I do not know if it was due to their weakness or better manners, but they behaved considerably better than the two cousins, who were constantly nudging one another when they thought no one was looking, which was far from being true. Everyone's eyes seemed glued to the four of them.

There was another man with the group, and I felt my face burn when I recognised him. That was Éomer, Éowyn's brother and future King of Rohan, and, added to all that, the man who kissed me in the hallway of the Houses of Healing.

When they approached, he swept the assembly with his eyes and beamed to see Éowyn, who gave him a radiant smile and a small wave of her hand. And then he was suddenly looking into my eyes.

I almost cringed in embarrassment, remembering our last encounter. And then he…winked at me.

It cost me great effort not to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. There we were, surrounded by the highest nobility of several realms, and the heir to Rohan's throne winks at the daughter of the ruler of Dol Amroth!

He seemed to be amused too, but at that moment Faramir stepped towards Aragorn, and a hush fell as all prepared to listen. Éomer sent me a mock frown and turned his attention to the ceremony.

Faramir, white in the face from the strain, nevertheless did everything immaculately. There was a general delighted gasp as Aragorn handed him back the White Rod and confirmed him in his position. I saw Faramir look up into his face unbelievingly, a faint blush spreading over his pale cheeks; but he quickly collected himself and continued the ceremony.

After the crowning was done (which I do not see any point to describe in great detail, it having been done very thoroughly in the chronicles of Gondor), the new King proceeded towards the City; I noticed that Faramir was walking almost abreast with him, just a tiny step behind, and the King seemed to be telling him something. They stopped after passing the barrier, and Aragorn put his hand on Faramir's shoulder, squeezing it slightly. My cousin smiled and said something quietly in return, and then he turned and went back to where he had been before.

"Was I good, Thíri?" he enquired, smiling at me.

"You are breathing so hard as if you have just had a run to Barad-dûr and back," I teased. "Was it that hard?"

He sighed. "And it is not over yet. It will take some time for the King to get to the Citadel, for which I am grateful. I only hope there will not be any confusion with banners. I should not be surprised if the one with the Tree and the Stars goes missing all of a sudden!"

"At least the music is perfect," I said. "Especially the harp. I love it."

Faramir gave me an absolutely haunted look. "What music?"

I laughed and wrapped an arm around his waist. "You truly did not hear it!"

"Where is Éowyn?" he said, looking around. "There is bound to be a bit of confusion, and she is not used to cities. Can you see her?"

"Yes," I said, pointing to the side. "She is with her brother."

Indeed she was, arms flung around his neck, face buried in his chest, and from the shaking of her shoulders, I guessed she was weeping.

A sad smile crossed Faramir's face; he turned away and was prepared to leave when I caught his sleeve.

"Where are you off to?" I demanded angrily. "Has it not crossed your mind to escort me to my father? I was left in your care, by the way."

He smiled against himself. "If I remember rightly, that was just the other way round. But can you not manage on your own? There are still things I have to see to."

"I am not Éowyn," I snapped. "I do not go about slaying monsters. All this crowd will simply trample me down if you do not help."

"All right," he consented, taking me by the arm.

We made our way towards the group where I noticed my brother Erchirion's face. I waved to them; they cheered and beckoned to us, urging us to join them.

I sneaked a glance at Faramir, who must have believed me very cruel at that moment. The pain in his eyes could almost be touched, and every moment his they wandered to a family huddled together, a husband and a wife, clasped to each other in a loving embrace, an old couple making a great fuss over a young soldier, it seemed he could barely hold back tears… I felt his hand tremble on my arm, and his grip loosen a little; but he managed to pull himself together and go on.

As we almost reached our goal, and I saw Elphir wriggle his way towards us, I freed my arm from Faramir's hold and retreated into the crowd.

Faramir looked about in alarm, but just then, Elphir got him into a bear-tight embrace, laughing happily at the reunion. He was soon followed by my other two brothers and my father, who all hugged him so tight that I could see him flinch, all talking at the same time, tugging at his ceremonial clothing and, as should be expected, teasing him mercilessly about his finery. I guessed they thought that I had gone to meet Father.

Father looked around, the only one to suspect something, for he had clearly seen me approach with my cousin, and finally caught sight of me watching from afar. He smiled and beckoned to me, and then I shook my head slightly, nodding towards Faramir.

He seemed to understand, for he smiled warmly in return and nodded, too. I waved my hand in the direction of the City, indicating that we could talk there, later.

My heart tightened in my chest when I cast one last glance upon my family before returning to the City. Faramir was in the middle of the group, chatting animatedly to my brothers; Amrothos was nearly jumping around, for he loved our cousin dearly; Father had his arm about Faramir's shoulders.

_I love you so_, I thought. _I am so happy to have you all back. But I hope you do not mind me lending you to him for a while. I know this moment of reunion is a treasure for anyone, and yet for him I am ready to sacrifice that, and, for once, give him a family, all to himself._

I sighed and prepared to leave, but as I turned around, there was Mithrandir, looking at me thoughtfully.

"No doubts about that, Lady Lothíriel?" he asked. "You can still 'find your way back' and join them."

I shook my head resolutely. "That would make them switch their attention to me, and I do not want him to feel deprived again, not today. Let him be the first and foremost, for once."

Mithrandir eyed me appraisingly. "You are a brave one, my lady."

"I know that," I grinned at him.

* * *

"Thíri!"

The voice was Éowyn's.

I turned to see her with her brother, his arm holding her firmly and protectively to himself. Éowyn was radiant with delight, though her eyes were still a little red.

"My lady," Eomer bowed to me. "I am forever indebted to you for taking care of my sister so. She seems to have fully regained both her strength and her peace of mind, and I am told that you were not the last person to help her in this."

"Neither was I the first," I murmured, earning a mortified look from Éowyn. It appeared she had not yet told him about the one who played a greater role in her recovery. I wondered how he would take that…probably not too well.

"Now, all this is very pleasant, but I think we had better proceed to the Citadel," Éomer said. "Aragorn…King Elessar, that is, will await us there. Oh…" he stared at her dubiously, looking quite funny.

Éowyn laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Éomer, I suggest you calm down and just go. We shall join you in a while. And stop looking so damn worried. I am all right, you can ask my dear nurse to confirm that."

I nodded several times, grinning at her. Éomer, though still looking very uncertain, kissed her on the cheek and joined other nobles on their way up. I noticed Faramir and my family too, but decided against going to them just then. There will be plenty of time later, and Erchirion and Amrothos looked so engrossed in the conversation with our cousin that I could not bring myself to end that.

Father, however, found me already in the hallway of the Citadel and swept me into a warm embrace.

For once, I did not try to pull away, but snuggled close and sighed contentedly.

"I am so glad you are back," I whispered.

He stroked my hair, then stooped to kiss the top of my head.

"I am glad to be back, too, Thíri," he said softly. "And I am so proud of you, child. Never have I felt thus about any of my children. What you did today was the noblest deed I have ever witnessed. I did feel a little sorry that I did not have you there at my side, and your brothers were positively angry, but you did the right thing."

I closed my eyes, basking in the praise. How often have I desired him to talk to me like that, and was angry when he just called me child, but now the very word bore a totally different meaning. For there was genuine pride in it, pride of having me as his daughter, and I knew that from that moment I would never be seen as an unruly girl.

"Let us come and see your brothers," he said, kissing me once again.

I had to endure endless rebukes from my brothers for getting lost in the crowd and never bothering to try and find them (that was what my father had told them), and I was called anything they considered the representation of being whimsical and irresponsible, but that could be born easily, once I caught the look in Faramir's eyes from across the room where he was engaged in a conversation with Mithrandir.

He gazed at me long, as if seeing me for the first time in his life; then, a slow smile crept onto his face, and he inclined his head slightly.

* * *

At some point, as I wearied of the feast, I crept quietly into the hallway and wandered aimlessly to the City walls.

"My lady, are you all right?" came a concerned voice from the guard.

"I am, do not worry," I said. "I am not going to leave the Citadel."

I went out to the courtyard, inhaling the deep scent of many crushed flowers mingled with the leftover smoke from the fires of the night before. This one was peaceful and quiet, though a bit cold, and I shivered in my light dress.

"How peaceful, is it not?" Éowyn said, approaching me from behind.

I smiled at her. "You are reading my mind."

Éowyn came to stand beside me, our shoulders touching. I noted she was wearing the dark blue mantle.

"Never parting with that, are you?" I teased, pulling at it lightly.

She laughed. "Apart from being a very welcome gift, it is quite warm, you know," she said. "But Éomer grows more and more suspicious."

"You have not told him yet?" I exclaimed.

She shook her head. "I could not bring myself to, Thíri. He was so happy to see me well, and so relieved I was over that story with Aragorn, and then he said, 'I am glad the man is my friend, Éowyn, for otherwise I would have killed him for bringing you to this.' Éomer is rash, and I should not like him to clash with Faramir before he actually knows the truth of our feelings."

"Faramir is not one easily dragged into a fight," I pointed out.

"No, he is not," she smiled tenderly. "Oh, Thíri… whatever have I done to deserve this bliss…"

She lowered her head onto my shoulder, sighing.

"Killed the Witch-King, for one thing," I said.

Someone laughed softly behind us. "Well said, my lady!"

We whirled round and saw a very pleased Éomer.

"Brother!" Éowyn cried. "You have been eavesdropping!"

His grin widened. "So I have. And heard all that you said."

She stared at him, mortified. "And…and about…"

He nodded, "About your involvement with the Lord Steward? My dearest sister, I have known that since Merry came to Cormallen. He held it his duty as a Knight of the Mark to inform me of a possibility of a new alliance…which, I must confess, I at first found somewhat unattractive, but on serious consideration…"

"Éomer!"

"What?" he blinked at her innocently.

"Oh, you…" she looked as if she might strike him; then turned on her heels and ran off.

All this time, I had been bent almost double with laughter.

"And what do you find so amusing about this, my lady?" he asked in a threatening tone, his hands on his hips.

I finally steadied my breath, but still could not speak a word.

"Oh, women…" he sighed, shaking his head. "I wonder if I should go and rescue Merry. Éowyn's wrath could prove deadly."

"Oh, I should not worry about his well-being," I said lightly. "My cousin has to be able to stop her, should she become dangerous."

He stepped closer, eyeing me with an unreadable expression.

"I might think you are trying to keep me from leaving, lady? Do you still fear I may harm your cousin?"

I shook my head. "No, my lord, I do not fear that. I do hold a firm belief that you will behave as befits a King…for are you not to become one?"

He seemed saddened by the reminder of his uncle's death, and I instantly regretted my words, but by this time I knew better than to run away like a silly child.

"Forgive me, my lord," I said in my softest tones, placing my hand on his arm. "That was most inconsiderate of me."

"No, no," he said quietly, "I am grieved by my uncle's death, of course, but the pain would be tenfold had he died while he was in Rohan. His passing was honourable, and for that I am grateful."

His eyes rested on me again, and then he said, not a trace of jesting in his voice, "To you, I am too grateful."

"What for?" I said, my voice lowered to a whisper for some reason.

"For the farewell you gave me," he said, reaching his hand to touch my face. "How true you spoke then, Lothíriel, that true affection has no need of tokens. Mine did not."

I stood rooted to the spot, looking straight into his eyes and thinking it was most scandalous and unladylike to do so; and yet I could not look avert my eyes. His hands cupped my face, thumbs caressing my cheeks, and he slowly tilted his head to touch my lips with his in another kiss.

I was the first to pull back, scared and confused. He sighed and stroked my cheek again.

"I am rushing you into it, am I not?" he said apologetically. "My experience with ladies has always skipped the wooing part… oh, damn!"

He was bright red with embarrassment, and I felt amused against myself.

And suddenly, I did what was the rashest thing ever in my life.

"To hell with the wooing," I whispered and wrapped my arms about his neck.

Even if he was scandalised by my behaviour, he never mentioned it. Not then, at least.

* * *

Late at night, as I was lying in bed, the whole scene seemed rather unreal to me. Falling for a stranger who I barely knew, standing kissing him in the courtyard where any could see us… was I mad? And there, on the chair, was Éomer's green cloak, which he had lent to me when I shivered with cold. Another cloak…was it a new fashion, giving them to ladies one fancied?

But I had no wish to go deep into all that, my eyelids heavy with sleep. As I was dozing off, the door hesitantly creaked open to let Faramir in.

He stood there, looking at me, for long minutes; then made several swift steps to the bed, sank to his knees and took hold of my hand. He pressed it to his lips and buried his face in the bedclothes.

After a while, he lifted his head and looked me in the eye again, and then whispered, "Thank you."

And I knew that it would be this expression of gratitude that I shall treasure more than any other.

* * *

_TBC_

_Lindahoyland, thanks for being so kind to my Lothi. You know, some here say I have been reading your fanfic too much :)_

_Elenhin, that was about you. How did you find the gift? And oh, I am so glad you liked the letter thing!_

_ClapToSaveTheFairies (my, it takes some skill to type that:)) I am happy that you like it. As to your comment about Éowyn, don't be too harsh on her! Anyone could get distracted, you know, even from Faramir, horrible as that may sound. As to his troubled family history, here I agree, but I had to give the lead role to Thíri here!_

_Thayzel, thank you so much for noticing this. Actually, that was done with the book beside the computer. One question: any particular wise words? Kidding…:)_

_To all: and don't you dare tell me she would never let Faramir 'borrow' her family! She has. Or do you have other ideas?_

_Yours,_

_Lilan_

_P.S. Jokes aside, thank you very much, guys. You have actually lifted my spirits a lot, which resulted in this lightning speed of writing. Hate to say I'll have to slow down a bit here. But I'll try to update as soon as possible!_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

I wandered along empty hallways until they started to suffocate me.

I had slept late; I had done so since the day of the crowning, the eventful day that had proved to be too much for my strained self. The word came from the Warden of the Houses of Healing, permitting me to be free of my duties for a week; apparently, he did so with many of the nursemaids and healers, to give them time to rest a bit. I presumed other people came to take their places, but was ashamed to confess that I was a little glad of this break.

I spent quite a lot of time with my father and my brothers, until they started to get me. Oh, the three younger ones were as usual, teasing me about everything, most of all my job in the Houses and the need to tend to the injured and some of the dirtier tasks than needed to be performed… it ended with me saying angrily that Sauron had probably not been defeated, but fled from his realm when his spies told him that the Prince of Dol Amroth was bringing his sons with him.

Father had had quite a laugh over that.

In fact, Father was very caring and considerate and kind…terrible. I was not used to that kind of cosseting, after years of fighting over the slightest thing.

Éowyn had laughed at me when she heard this.

"You are being unreasonable, Thíri. You are mad at your brothers for treating you just like they always do, and at your father for being gentle with you?"

"Oh, I do not know," I groaned. "I am a fool, Éowyn, I really am."

She gave me a thoughtful look, then smiled slightly.

"Have you talked to my brother?" she suddenly enquired.

I felt my cheeks burn. _Talked_, indeed…

"What does that have to do with anything?" I demanded angrily.

"Oh, nothing," she said innocently, her eyes sparkling merrily. "I just thought he might want to…know you better. I told you he fancied you."

I sighed. "I have heard that all the married women in the world always try to play matchmakers for those who are still…free, but you have not even been trothplighted to start these talks!"

"Well, I would rather fancy you for a sister-in-law," she said lightly, for which I gave her a punch in the side.

Then, there was Faramir. I was proud of his gratitude, of course, and glad that I had managed to make him happy, but his anxious attention to me ever since was starting to weary me considerably. At times, I was able to look upon myself from aside and wonder at my sudden desire to be left alone. I loved my cousin, and these past days had made us very close, but now he seemed to have become one of those who irritated me with their mere presence.

I was constantly berating myself for this, calling myself a fool and a very ungrateful person, and I felt much like I had all this time before, when everyone called me childish and silly.

Deep inside, I knew the reason for that.

Éomer.

I had tried to evade him ever since the day we kissed. If asked why, I very probably could not explain that. I just did not like the way my heart started to pound in his presence, or the strange things I did when he was near…like kissing him. The cloak he had lent me was still in my chamber, for I could not bring myself to return it; I thought he might be offended by that, although he might have just given it to me out of kindness.

_Stop that_, I ordered myself. _Kindness, huh! You do not go about kissing people you barely know out of kindness._

I gave a loud sigh, and suddenly a male voice said, "I wonder what could be troubling you so, my lady."

I nearly jumped and found out I was standing in front of an open door of an office, an inside that office was the King himself.

I simply stared at him, quite unable to produce anything coherent. I did not even notice I had made it to the King's apartments!

However, he smiled and beckoned me in.

"Please, enter, my lady," he said. "I should rather welcome a distraction from all this," and he pointed to a heap of loose parchments on the desk.

"I thought Faramir would be helping you," I remarked, stepping inside.

The King grinned at me. "Surely, he would stay here day and night if he had it his way! But I could not be so cruel as to keep him from the Lady Éowyn now! She is to depart with her brother soon, and a couple of days of being buried under this will not change anything, will it?"

I smiled at him, finding myself suddenly shy. He behaved in a very simple manner, trying to let me know that it was all right for me to be here and interrupt his work, and yet now it was the King before me, and I could not help feeling a bit scared.

"Pray sit, my lady, I am most ill-mannered to have kept you on your feet for so long," he said, standing up and indicating a small couch. I went to it and sat on the very edge, while he turned the chair around and sat astride it, much like my brothers did when in private.

He must have seen something in my face, as he suddenly laughed, bowing his head and touching the chair's back with his brow.

"I have still to learn more of kingly demeanour," he said apologetically. "But where would one do that if he spends most of his life in the woods?"

"I wish I could go there for some time," I said vehemently and was amazed at my own words.

His expression changed as he went to sit beside me.

"Feeling a little lost, are you not?" he said softly. "Waiting is a difficult thing… and the days that passed have not been the easiest ones. Nor have the battles you had to fight, Lothíriel."

Suddenly, I felt tears threaten in my eyes.

_Stop it_, I said to myself angrily.

"Why not tell me all about it, child?" his voice was all compassion and warmth.

And then it happened, and I found myself weeping as I never had before, words pouring out along with the tears; I clutched his tunic frantically with both hands, gasping for air. My chest hurt as if a knife had been plunged into it and left there. I was angry and frustrated, telling myself that I should not be doing this, that this was the King of the realm, and it was not fitting for him to hold a hysterical woman, but nothing helped.

He never moved or spoke, just shifted a bit, cradling me in his arms, as my father would, listening to all my woes, and his hand was stroking my head lightly. I could not pull away from the touch; it was so comforting and warm that my reservations gradually wore away, and I let myself sink fully into his embrace.

"Better now?" he asked when my tears finally began to subside.

I nodded mutely, still pressed against his broad chest.

"Sorry…" was all I could manage.

"Do not be," he said gently, patting my back. "Tears are not always bad."

"I… I did not mean to weep, I just… oh, I do not know how it happened…" I whispered miserably, still hiding my face in his tunic.

"Shh, I understand," he said soothingly.

"But I do not," I said, finally pulling away and sniffling. "I… I am not supposed to weep, am I, with the war over and my family all alive and all… but I just have. I do not understand it!"

He made me sit more comfortably, still keeping his arm around my shoulders.

"Lothíriel," he said, looking me in the eye, "you have been under such a strain over these past days, and now that everyone is back, all you do is hear their tales of war, and no one listens to you… and I believe you have much to tell. It is hard, is it not? I mean, being cheerful and lively and supportive, until this mask grows fast to your face, and no one is able to see past that. You end up seeming to all a creature without a care in the world, but the wounds you carry do not become any less painful, do they?"

I felt tears trickling down my face again and pressed my hands to my face, struggling to keep my control over myself.

"Lothíriel?" he called softly.

I forced myself to look at him, though all was blurred before my eyes.

"You do not wish to burden anyone with that. Am I right?"

"Yes," I replied. "They are so happy to be back, to see me… I could not bear to alter that in any way. And Faramir, or Éowyn… they had known enough pain. I will never add mine to theirs."

I straightened my back, forcing myself to calm down. This would pass, as had all my griefs before.

The King placed his hands on my shoulders.

"This is no childish whim, Lothíriel, and I do not want you to torture yourself because of it. But I understand your desire to spare your loved ones. One thing I ask of you," he caught my chin firmly in his hand, "I beg you never to hesitate to talk to _me_, should you feel the need. I would not have you in pain. Do you promise me that?"

I nodded, feeling a great sensation of peace and warmth envelope me. He was truly a great man.

"Now to this question of Éomer," he proceeded.

I was mortified. Surely I had not told him that, too?

He laughed softly. "My lady, please do not think that I might disapprove. Actually, I am very happy already, for Faramir and Éowyn, and should be happier still if there were another alliance between the two kingdoms."

I started at the word 'alliance', but he squeezed my shoulder and smiled encouragingly, "Please, my lady, believe me when I say that your own happiness is not the least of my concerns."

I nodded, then said shyly, "You have already started to call me by my name, my lord, and I do not mind this."

He smiled at me once again, "I shall not ask you to return the favour, as you might still feel a bit reserved, but, in time, I hope you too see me as a friend first, and then your liege lord."

He went back to his chair and mounted it once more.

"About Éomer," he continued, "I think it would be best if you two talked. He seems most unhappy now that you abandoned him. I wondered what might be the cause of that… now I see."

I stared at him. "My lord, surely you would not want me to come to him and speak first?"

"Oh!" he cocked his head. "And why would that be?"

"But…but…" I stuttered, perplexed, "that would not be…well, proper?"

He laughed merrily, then said, "These are not usual times, my… Lothíriel, that is. And, to say the truth, I am mildly surprised by your words. You have always seemed a lady who knows her ways and follows them, and to hell with everything! Yet now I see a very meek girl who can barely look me in the eye! I do not see that as an improvement, if you want my opinion."

That annoyed me, and he raised his hands in mock surrender, still laughing.

"All right, Lothíriel, all jesting aside, I also care a lot for this suitor of yours, and wish to see him happy, too. Which I do not see now. He is lonely too, you know. One that was as a father to him is dead, and his sister seems too…hmm…preoccupied with her own affairs…my, am I getting tired of this court gibber! And then you go into hiding. Not very nice of you to add to his sufferings, is it?"

"My lord, please do not try to make me feel guilty," I retorted angrily. "I assure you that I am perfectly capable of taking care of my… suitors."

"Ah, some of the old spirit back," he grinned, instantly making me grin in return.

* * *

As I hesitantly went along Rath Dînen, I felt an icy chill slowly creep into my body. I had already heard rumours of my uncle's death, but they were to horrible to believe; I comforted myself with a thought that gossip was usually much exaggerated, and with the fact that Faramir appeared very calm. I hated to think that my uncle had indeed tried to murder his son; and still more unwelcome was the thought that, should it turn out to be true, my cousin will get yet another blow.

I entered the Hallows, trying to quieten my steps; any sound seemed a sacrilege, an act of utter disrespect for those lying here…though they probably did not care about a girl who was brought here by sheer chance.

I saw the torches surrounding the bed on which the dead King had been placed; there were twelve all in all, I noted, with my usual habit of counting things like steps of the stairs. I had heard there had been also guards, but now there appeared none.

The King was lying on the bed, covered with a cloth that shimmered gold in the bright torchlight; his sword was on top, unsheathed, and that also gleamed faintly. I had never seen the King Théoden in life; I was a bit scared to see him now, dead. People said he looked as if he slept; for me, there was none of this. No sleeping man had a face of this yellowish hue, or such hollow eyes, or such strangely pointed nose. I was dismayed not to see any beauty or grandeur in this, like everyone else did, or said they did; but then, I might have seen too many die and dead in the Houses of Healing to revere death.

I took another step closer and saw Éomer.

He was kneeling by Théoden's side, head resting on his arms; his whole posture spoke of extreme weariness, of grief that was almost too great to bear. I got slightly alarmed, for I had been told he had gone inside about two hours before, and I had thought that he might have left without them seeing him, but there he was, standing silent guard over the one who had been a father to him for most of his life.

He did not move; he obviously had not heard me enter. I approached him and knelt at his side, touching his shoulder with my hand.

He stirred, as if from sleep, and blinked at me with tired eyes.

"Lothíriel," he said in a hoarse voice, "what are you doing here?"

"The King Elessar said you were here," I said.

He nodded wearily, "So I am."

"You are cold," I observed, bringing my hand to his cheek. "You have been here long."

He turned to the bed again, not saying anything.

"Let us go," I said. "You will be ill if you stay here longer still."

He did not seem to heed me at all. He stared mutely at the dead King, then reached his hand to touch his brow.

"I am to take his place," he said unbelievingly. "I cannot. Well, I guess I must, but this is so difficult. I was never meant for this. It was Théodred. We used to jest about this, he becoming King and I his chief advisor…not that I could offer any advice, but he said my duty would be telling everyone that he is busy or indisposed while he would be riding somewhere in the fields, and Uncle joined us in laughter…"

His voice trailed off, and he lowered his head again. I stayed beside him, letting my hand fall to my side, but inching closer to him, until I could feel his body close to mine.

Suddenly, he looked at me sharply.

"Why are you here, Lothíriel?" he asked.

"Because the King thinks you need me," I said bluntly.

"And you?"

"I do not know. Do you?"

He gave me a sad smile. "Do you need to ask that?"

"No, I guess not," I shook my head. "That is, then, why I am here."

He looked at me closely. "Lothíriel…"

"No, listen to me. I was scared. I was scared to death, because all this was too…rushing, because I have never…"

"Met a man who would behave so with a lady of your standing," he interrupted. "I understand. And I shall understand it if you say that you were just carried away by the heat and bustle of it all, that I was too…insistent, that your lack of experience made it difficult for you to keep me at a distance. I shall understand that. But please believe me that I never meant it to be just an adventure. Since the day when I first saw you, you have been on my mind. Do you remember how we met in that dusty pantry? You were there, so lost and frightened, and yet so stubborn and proud, you even did not want me to walk you to your chamber…and I was taken, on that very day, with the girl who had cobwebs in her hair, but it looked like a most magnificent crown… And then you came to my sister and drew her out of her apathy, when I thought such thing was totally impossible, and that was when I started to love you. When I was to depart, I was desperate to tell you of this, but all I could do was kiss you and make some stupid jest, and you seemed hurt by that, but I thought it was good. I did not know if I would return, and I did not want you to suffer.

"Now you are here, and I am alive, and there is one thing I beg of you: please let me prove how truly and devotedly I love you. I realise that you might not feel ready for this, but I promise to be as patient as will be needed. You know that I am to be King; but it is not the crown or any riches that I want to give you. They are all but dust, lost as easily as gained, and you are too noble to pursue such things; what I offer you is myself, as I am. I swear it in the presence of him that was a true father of mine."

I was stunned by this simple and fervent declaration; however, what I did was smile and cup his face gently with both hands.

"First thing you have to learn when dealing with me is not to interrupt me," I said. "What I meant to say was that I have never felt thus about any man. Nor do I think I ever shall, that I can also swear in his presence," I nodded to the dead King.

I did not dare to kiss him there; the place being what it was; so I just embraced him tightly, and he encircled me with his arms, too, leaning so that I could feel the touch of his cheek and the warm wetness as his tears spilled onto my face.

* * *

_TBC_

_**WONDEREYE**, glad that you did!_

_**Elenhin**… well, thanks, I guess :) Great you liked Merry telling Eomer!_

_**Lindahoyland**, there's some Aragorn for you._

_**Catwraith**, I am soooo flattered!_

_**Raksha the Demon**, sorry to disappoint you! Still, I think he would be nervous, after those years and years of waiting for a King, and then, something always goes wrong during these ceremonies!_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

I could only guess that the feeling of total unreality was what a person got from loving someone for the first time ever.

Perhaps it was because of the start of it all. Perhaps, had it gone in a conventional way, with being formally introduced to each other, and a reasonable share of courtship under the approving eye of family and acquaintances, and exchanges of witticisms, we would both feel differently. Now, I realized that our relationship could be seen as scandalous in a way.

Walking around alone at odd times of the day; kissing and holding each other; my beloved asking me first for my hand, not my father, as was usually done… Not that I was ungrateful for these. I enjoyed and treasured every moment I spent with Éomer, and he certainly felt the same. But it kept me in a constant state of wonder that this should be happening to me.

In our first time together, I wondered if he did not want my presence only to have someone, no matter who, at his side. As we stood kneeling in the Hallows, he wept quietly in my arms, and it tore at my heart to see him so heartbroken. He had obviously been very close to his uncle, and, being an army commander, could not allow himself to release his grief in front of his men. In fact, he felt much the same as I did, not wanting to taint others' happiness; only I had bumped into the King and had a good cry on his shoulder (which, notwithstanding his kindness towards me, was still making me deeply embarrassed every time I saw him).

However, I chased these thoughts away as unbelievably silly very soon, as I could also see such deep trust in his eyes every time he looked at me that it took my breath away. It never stopped to amaze me, as well as the fact that my father seemed quite at peace with my choice.

I had never been one to let the sleeping dog lie, so I once asked Father about it.

"Would you have it another way, Lothíriel?" he raised his eyebrows at me.

"No, of course not, but I expected you would choose a different husband for me. He is very unlike you, or anyone from Gondor or Dol Amroth."

He laughed. "Never have I had a ridiculous idea of choosing one of your brothers' likeness for you to marry, dear! I love you too much for that, you know. And, believe it or not, I consider you a rather capable young lady. Hmm… if this had happened before the war, I would still have had certain reservations, but now I am sure that you have chosen wise. You have changed a lot, Thíri."

He leaned close to me, winking conspiratorially.

"Besides," he whispered, "I do approve of the man. And it flatters me to think of you as a future queen. Why, this is quite a good match you have made, child!"

I laughed, "What a scheming sort of a father I have. I wonder if you did not talk it over with Éomer on your way back from Mordor."

He laughed, too, and hugged me close. "No, I have not, but the thought did cross my mind."

* * *

The two most delighted with the news were, of course, Éowyn and Faramir.

Éowyn was ecstatic; she embraced me so tightly that I could not breathe and told her so.

"Do you mean to say that my brother does it in a gentler manner?" she teased.

I blushed to the roots of my hair.

"You look just lovely," she laughed. "Oh, Thíri, I am so happy to have you for a sister! Not that it would change anything, of course. I have long thought of you as one."

Faramir was happy to hear the news, too, he looked a little overwhelmed with his own affairs; the new King made him Prince of Ithilien, the ruler of the land he loved so much, and appointed Beregond, his faithful guard and rescuer (one of rescuers, to be more exact), the captain of the White Company at Emyn Arnen.

"I never expected anything like that," he confessed to me, as we were taking a stroll in a small back garden. "Even being kept as the Steward… why would he do that?"

"Perhaps he needs you," I said simply.

"Well, yes," Faramir agreed, "it must be pure hell for him, not knowing of the state of affairs in the country, and ways things are done here… You know, this Beregond thing, he looked through whole piles of old law records, to give the man as light a penalty as possible! I can believe he needs a helping hand, and that I will gladly give him. But being honoured like this…" he shook his head in disbelief.

"Enough of this," he said, stopping and taking both my hands in his. "When are you planning to marry, cousin?"

I shrugged.

"Not so soon, Faramir. Rohan has been afflicted by this war most severely, and Éomer will have first to think of his country, and then marriage…what?"

He was laughing quietly.

"Forgive me, Thíri," he finally said, pulling me closer to himself, "only you sound so much like a queen already! Always putting others' needs before her own happiness…"

I pushed him away angrily, but he swept me in his arms and span me round until we fell to the ground, laughing like mad.

"Oh, cousin, I do love you," he said breathlessly, grinning at the evening sky. "I seem to have missed so much not having a younger sister!"

"Well, I could certainly do without another older brother," I shot back, quite insincerely.

* * *

"So…it is tomorrow, right?"

He nodded, then sighed and buried his face in my hair, embracing me from behind.

"If only you could go with me," he said after a while. "Now that I know I have you, it will be so hard to part."

"It will not be for long," I said, reaching my hand behind me to stroke his head.

"Not long!" he exclaimed. "At least a month!"

I turned to face him and trued to sound reassuring.

"You will have your sister."

"Indeed," he snorted. "You have been honoured with a sight of a brooding Éowyn, have you not? She turns rather…destructive. Sometimes self-destructive, but I think this will not be the case this time. I am almost glad to be marrying her off to your hero cousin! What are you laughing at?"

"Do all who love each other always fight that much?" I said, snuggling close to him.

"No, certainly not all," he replied, kissing the tip of my nose. "We two have a very healthy relationship, Lothi."

I looked up to meet his eyes. "Lothi? No one ever calls me that."

"Oh, you say so? Well, I will."

I sighed contentedly, "Good."

"Why?"

"A new name alongside with a new life coming… There is reason in that," I explained.

He laughed softly, lifting me slightly off the ground.

"You know, now I am pretty sure that I love you," he said.

I feigned indignation, slapping his hand, "_Now_? And what about before?"

"I am serious, Lothi," he said, pulling me to one of the benches and making me sit. "Sometimes, things do become so confused! What I meant to say was that it is not that I admire your beauty… oh, damn, of course I do, but this is not the most important thing. I want to hold you, and to hear you speak, and I do actually want to know what it is that you say! And, you know…"

He pulled me closer, seating me in his lap.

"There is one thing I want to do with you that I have never done with any woman before," he whispered in my ear. "I want to jest with you. You do it so wonderfully, not just to boast you wit, but to make people laugh, and this is something I love about you most. You…you are such a sunny person, Lothi. Just what one needs at these times."

I did not say anything, just kissed him lightly, settling more comfortably against his shoulder.

"Do not even think of falling asleep on me, young lady," he said threateningly, giving me a shake. "What is the point of opening one's heart to the like of you? You either laugh or dose off."

"Someone has just told me he liked my jests," I pointed out.

He laughed and kissed me again.

After several more minutes, he called to me hesitantly, "Lothi?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think you will be able to live in Rohan?"

"I have not a slightest idea, Éomer," I answered. "I have never been there. I shall tell you after I have seen it."

"Lothi!" he groaned.

"You are being silly, dear," I chuckled. "I promise I shall be as happy as you want me to. I am too tough to get homesick so easily."

We sat huddled together for another while.

"You are falling asleep, dear," he said. "I shall get you to your room."

"I can walk," I protested drowsily.

"The hell you can," he muttered, scooping me up.

"I heard that," I giggled, earning another kiss.

* * *

The Rohirrim left the following day, their departure being almost as grand as the crowning itself. I gave Éowyn a strangling embrace and was surprised to see her in tears; but then, the first thing she had done in the morning was go to see her dead uncle, which was followed by heartfelt farewells with Faramir, and Merry, and many other she had come to know during her stay.

"Take care of Faramir for me, please," she whispered in my ear. "He… these days will be hard for him."

I stole a glance at my cousin; he smiled bravely at us, but he looked pale and weary, and his eyes were distant.

"He learned about his father's death, yesterday…" Éowyn said quietly. "We talked about it, and… oh, Thíri, I would give everything to stay with him now!"

"I shall try to do what I can, Éowyn," I promised.

Éomer had already mounted his horse; we exchanged smiles, remembering both our talk of the evening before and our more than passionate farewell, interrupted by Erchirion bursting into the room and demanding of me to sew up a hole in his breeches, the aforesaid garment in his hands and none of the kind covering his legs.

As they paraded before us, among general cheer and praise, I felt a small hand press itself into mine.

"Merry!"

He grinned at me, squeezing my fingers. "Got the ale, so I heard?"

I laughed, putting my arm around his shoulders.

"That was a good bet, was it not?"

"There should have been another one, but I feared you throwing away my pipeweed when I slept for this," he said with perfect seriousness.

"And what would that be?" I asked playfully, able to imagine it quite well.

"I think you have already guessed," he shrugged.

As Éomer was passing us, smiling at me, I threw him a cream-coloured rose. However, a sudden gust of wind brought it straight to the face of a Marshal who rode behind. The man caught the rose, but then Éomer, to the amazement of many, held his horse and, when abreast with the Marshal, held out his hand, frowning. The poor rider gave him the flower, looking very sheepish, but Éomer produced a broad grin and brought the rose to his lips, turning his gaze to me.

That was a memorable moment, and I nearly groaned aloud at the thought of the gossip that was sure to follow this open display of affection. We were not even officially trothplighted!

However, all I could see was warm, friendly smiles at everybody's faces, my family's (oh, the teasing I was to endure afterwards!), Faramir's, the King's, the hobbits'… So I assumed an extremely haughty air and nodded at Éomer gravely, though my face must have been burning red.

Later, tired with celebrating, to tell the truth, I returned to the Houses of Healing.

The welcome they all gave me was overwhelming; even the Warden looked happy to see me back. I was truly grateful to them for not bowing to me and just being glad to see their old friend again.

In the kitchens, I came across Miri.

"Lothíriel!" she cried delightedly, flinging her arms around my neck and nearly making us both fall.

"Mother?" came hesitant from behind her.

I stood gaping as she took in her arms a little girl of about three years of age, with wavy dark hair, big bluish grey eyes, and a prominent bruise on her brow. I remembered her as one of the little orphans affected by Black Breath, and one of the first to recover after Aragorn tended to her.

"Meet Luthien, my daughter," Miri said quietly, tears springing to her eyes. She tucked the child's head under her chin, to hide them from her view, but the girl wriggled free and stroke her new mother's cheek in a most touching way.

Miri kissed the child on the cheek, tears spilling over. I wrapped my arms around both of them.

"Such a beautiful name. I am so glad," I whispered. "For both of you."

* * *

"Almost too good to be true, is it not, Lothíriel? Makes you fear to lose it."

The Warden stood before me as I sat on the bench under the cherry tree, now in leaves.

I looked at him long, then smiled and shook my head.

"No, Master Warden," I said. "It is just good. And true. And I am not afraid to lose it. I will not let it happen."

"You know, child, I trust one such as you can make a promise like that," he smiled in return.

He sat down at my side, and we watched the sunset together.

* * *

_TBC_

_Yes, I know it's fluff not angst, but I got tired of that._

_**Lindahoyland**, thanks for your praise. Not always feel I deserve it, but a bit of flattery is good :)_

_**Elenhin**, the usual good in-depth analysis. I'm glad you see into it so deeply! Sorry my reply is not as long, but I can make up for it by mail._

_**Raksha**, just thanks. I love your honesty, and the way you keep me down when I start inflating with pride:)_

_**Thayzel**, you hit the mark with that long paragraph. Thanks! As to crying on the King's shoulder... no, I am not going to argue; in my experience, no one really changes opinions whatever you say, so - sorry if I disappointed you!_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

She had asked me to take care of Faramir.

I wondered if that could be done at all.

Faramir appeared absolutely calm, just as usual; he spent hours and hours with the King, helping him to know his new position better. (Secretly, I thought that Aragorn was rather overwhelmed now that he was faced with the task of running a country.)

I saw them together quite often; my cousin had realised that our new sovereign was not always recognised in the City, so he took it upon himself to accompany the King whenever the latter decided to personally oversee some works, to avoid any awkwardness.

Sometimes, there would be the Halflings with them, Pippin and Merry mostly; Frodo and Sam spent a lot of time at the Healing Houses, largely because of Sam's devotion to our gardens. Frodo seemed very content with not doing anything, as he told me once.

"You know, Lothíriel," he confessed, "in truth, I am the laziest hobbit ever. All that journey was so trying, and not only because of the ordeals; it was just not my sort of thing."

"But you once said you longed for an adventure," I said.

Frodo sighed, looking up into the blue sky.

"An adventure is usually a pleasant thing one gets involved in when there is nothing else to do. Take my cousin Bilbo. Of course, his journey was a big trial for him, but he remembers is with such delight! It…it had made him whole, if you see my point. Mine, on the contrary, took away a great deal of me, and I doubt that part is ever coming back."

I did not really know what to say. He spoke rather lightly, but there was deep sadness in his eyes as he said this, a pain that, I feared, he would have to carry for years.

Sam looked deeply embarrassed every time I tried to talk to him and would just mumble something very incoherent; Frodo presumed that it was because of my likeness to a certain "hobbit lass" named Rosie and once even tried to tease Sam about it.

Merry remained my faithful friend. It appeared he had received quite a bit of indignant punches from Éowyn, for giving her away to Éomer, and about the same number of kisses, for the same act.

And we all worried for Faramir.

"He would not talk about it," Pippin sighed. "Even to me, and I was there! I was all shaking, I thought he would start ask me questions right after we returned, but he never did, so I thought someone had told him already… and then Gandalf told him, and he only thanked him and left! And then, he comes to…_that_ place every day, and stands there looking at something, but it is as if he does not see a thing… That is not healthy, if you want my mind on that."

"But had he not known before?" Merry asked incredulously. "The Houses were buzzing about the pyre, and the things you could hear in the City could give you creeps for life. And then, the trial of that guard, Beregond, – surely he had to have guessed! The man is not blind or deaf or dumb!"

"Perhaps he chose not to know," Frodo said quietly. "Remember, the people of the City and the soldiers, and you, Pip, you all knew the late Denethor as a madman who would send his son to death and his City to ruin. For Faramir, there had been happier times, and he might have preferred to think of the father who loved him rather than the one who tried to kill him."

"Like it never happened…" Sam whispered, staring thoughtfully into the fire.

"Yes, I think you are right, Sam," I sighed. "Like it never happened. Poor cousin…he had known it before Mithrandir told him, of course. But he had heard rumours and those could be untrue. Now…now there is no such hope."

Pippin sniffled and turned away, but I noticed tear tracks on his cheeks.

"Oh, Pip…" Merry said helplessly, reaching over to give him a hug.

Pippin, however, shrugged off his arm and turned to me, wiping his eyes.

"Well, you are his cousin, are you not?" he demanded. "You should try and do something about it."

* * *

I stopped at Faramir's door and knocked hesitantly. 

Not a sound was heard from within, so I pushed the door and entered.

My cousin was sitting on the rug, flipping through the pages of some book, but from the look on his face I saw that his mind was elsewhere.

"Faramir?"

His eyes shot up, lighting with a smile, and for a moment I believed that all our concerns were for nothing.

"Thíri! How nice of you to come. I rarely see you these days. How is your work? I hope you do not regret your decision to stay behind while your father left together with the rest."

"Regret?" I grinned, lowering myself next to him. "We were together only for two weeks, and we had started fighting almost immediately after they returned. I am inclined to think that one's family is best loved from a distance."

_Oh, no_, I groaned, barely resisting the impulse to hide my face in my hands. _Have I left my head behind when I was going here? What a thing to say…_

Faramir gazed into the fire.

"Faramir?" I called as softly as I could manage.

He did not look at me.

"Please, forgive me," I whispered.

"There is nothing to forgive, Thíri," he replied evenly.

I sat there silent for some time, then ventured an attempt.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What?" he asked sharply, now eyeing me with unreadable expression.

"About your father, cousin. I can see you are troubled, and I want to help."

"Help those who require help, Thíri. I was led to believe that you were working at the Houses of Healing, or have you been so carried away by this wave of festivities and you new attachment that your duties are no longer important to you?"

That said, he got to his feet and went to the window.

It was as if he had just slapped me in the face. I took a moment to collect my wits; I could not believe for a single moment that my cousin had really meant those words. This bitter sarcasm was a thing that was not he, and I suspected that it was used simply to mask the suffering. Had he said anything like that in his first days in the Houses, I would most probably have run away and wept until no tears were left; now, I saw this rebuff for what it was, and it was a desperate plea for help.

I got up and stepped to him.

"Faramir, please let me help you," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. "We both know you need it."

He looked at me with what appeared shame at his behaviour, but there was also irritation.

"Cousin, I… I am sorry for my harsh words," he said, shrugging off my hand. "But I do not want to see anyone now. Not even you. I do appreciate all that you have done for me, but there is no need for further cosseting on your part. I can manage this on my own."

"Faramir…"

"Please, leave."

As I cast him one last glance, he was still standing in front of the window, dark against the evening sky.

* * *

In the hallway, I was startled to see the King, sucking thoughtfully at his pipe. 

"Any luck?" he enquired, cocking his head.

Forgetting the bows and curtsies, I just shook my head wearily.

"Have you bee waiting for me, my lord?" I asked.

He nodded.

"I saw you enter the Steward's apartments and followed you. It took some time to persuade the guards to let me go alone," he grinned.

I was sure he had used some Ranger trick or another to escape. But I was in no mood for jesting.

"Can you not do anything?" I begged. "He respects you, and I can see you have become very close over these past days."

He saddened visibly; I saw his eyes darken with pain as he said, "People brought together by losses… Did you know, Lothíriel, that this war took those who I also loved?"

"Even if I did not, I should guess," I said quietly. "One of the Northern Rangers, right? The man who took your place after you left with the Fellowship?"

"Yes," he answered very quietly. "And Boromir, your other cousin. I liked him a lot, and yet I was too late to save him. Perhaps this also added to my desire to know Faramir better, and…"

"And those who manage to get to know him better inevitably start to like him," I finished for him.

"Another thing that runs in the family, I should say," he muttered under his breath, making me flush in embarrassment, remembering our conversation at the Houses.

"Do not worry about your cousin so much, Lothíriel," said the King as he bade me goodnight, giving me over to the escort he summoned. "I believe I have a cure for him, but that will have to wait until tomorrow."

"A cure?" I started.

"Someone that he expects to see least of all," he smiled. "A person from his happier past."

I wondered at this, but asked no more questions and returned to the Houses of Healing.

* * *

"Will you hold still, Luthien, or you will end up bald-headed!" 

I chuckled as I entered Miri's room. Her new daughter was sitting on a high stool while Miri was trying to braid her hair.

"Don't want braids," the child shook her head vigorously. "Want long hair."

By that time we all knew that little Luthien got it into her head that loose hair ('long hair', as she called it) was better than braids, and no one could disprove that. It took great amounts of cakes and sweets to coax the girl into sitting still for her mother or anyone to do her hair.

The girl was a little storm, rushing along the hallways, turning over buckets, pulling dogs' tails (amazingly, none had tried to bite her so far), and getting bruises all over her little body. Miri had no family left to leave the child with, and I had a strong suspicion that even if she had, she would never be parted from her little daughter; but I could see she was a little bewildered at the amount of energy that was contained within Luthien.

"See who has come?" Miri pointed to me.

"Thíri! The child cried delightedly, sliding down the stool and flinging herself at me. She seemed equally incapable of both quiet speech and slow movements.

I laughed, tossing her in the air and making her squeal in excitement.

"Lothíriel, she is heavy," Miri warned.

"Oh, she is not," I said, holding the girl. "Look, Luthien, why not let your mother braid your hair, and then I shall let you both do mine?"

The child bit her lip, deep in thought, but finally consented.

Afterwards, we watched her run away, and then heard a bang and a loud wail, followed by Merry's soothing voice. He seemed to like Luthien quite a bit and took great care of her, so we could safely leave the comforting to him.

* * *

I had trouble going to sleep that night and the night to follow, too, and that made me mad, because I usually feel asleep the moment my head touched the pillow. 

But now, I felt hot under the covers; when I pushed them away, I was cold; the bed felt unusually lumpy, and, to add to all that, I could hear doors creaking somewhere, and wind howling outside, and thousands of sound you normally pay no heed to, unless you cannot go to sleep.

Having turned over at least a hundred times, I sighed and got out of bed. It was no use trying, my sleep had fled me that night, so all I could do was accept the fact. I went to a big chair, together with the covers, and nestled there, looking at the dark night sky behind my window.

The door suddenly opened a crack, then someone, as if gathering courage, pushed at it, and, in a moment, a man entered.

I was scared; remembering my night adventure in the City, I had now grown a bit suspicious of strangers walking around at odd times.

"Who is it?" I demanded loudly, determined to scream at the top of my lungs if anything was wrong.

"Thíri, this is me," Faramir's voice replied.

"Faramir!" I jumped out of my chair, rushing to him. "Is everything… are you all right?"

"Yes, I am," he answered in a tired voice.

"I shall light a candle," I said, moving to the table. I had decided to have no fire that night, as it was quite warm outside.

"No, do not, please," he said, drawing me to himself and tucking my head under his chin.

"You are cold," I observed, hugging him tightly. "Have you been to the Silent Street?"

He shuddered, and I felt him nod against my head.

We stood together, silent, for a long time; I did not attempt to pull away, trying both to warm him and offer some comfort, though I was not sure I was able to. Finally, he shifted and loosened his hold on me.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, kissing the top of my head. "Will you forgive me for being such a fool, Thíri?"

I smiled, then remembered that he could not see it in the darkness and stroked his cheek, feeling its dampness beneath my fingers. Oh, no, my entire being protested. How much pain was fate going to inflict on him? Why was it he who had to suffer so?

Questions asked by thousands of others before me, but of answers, I did not know, so I pushed them back and concentrated on my cousin instead.

"I could never be angry with you," I said, continuing to stroke his face gently. "I love you too much for that."

He inhaled deeply, then put his hands over mine, pressing them to his face, and wept bitterly, tears flowing through our fingers. I embraced him again and guided him slowly to the bed. I made him sit and myself sat down at his side; he clutched me to himself again, hiding his face on my shoulder.

My heart nearly broke for him, but I could not help feeling a little relieved. His self-control was of course amazing, but it has not been doing him a big service lately, when he struggled to keep his anguish to himself.

"Thíri," he whispered into my shoulder, "I am so sorry to burden you with this…but then, I have only you to turn to... only you who is family. I tried, oh, how I tried to bear it bravely, but I could not… Every time I think of him, it breaks my heart. I loved him, Thíri, I still love him; we had our fights, but that does not change anything… he was still my father. You know, when I was lying in the clutches of fever, there was a moment of consciousness. We talked… and he said he loved me, too, and he was distraught with grief and guilt and despair… I shall be eternally grateful for that moment, to him, to fate, to any powers that may be guiding us."

His tears soaked through the light fabric of my nightdress; only now did I understand how tired he was. Tired of grief and losses, tired of the need to weather them all with a brave face… Even the way he wept gave away his weariness; no frantic sobs, just silent tears, all the more tragic because of their quietness.

I kissed his head, feeling my own tears trickle down my face. I wiped them off angrily. I had no right to weep. I had to be there for him, strong and calm.

"Has the King talked to you?" I asked gently.

"Yes," he answered. "Or rather, I went to talk to him. Just before I came here."

I gasped in amazement. "You?"

He chuckled half-heartedly. "Yes, would you believe it? I went to see him and said very much the same things that I have just said to you. I had to thank him, too."

"What for?"

"He was concerned about me indeed," there was slight surprise in Faramir's voice. "I never expected the thing he did. He managed to find my old nurse! If not for her, I… I would never understand that I was repeating my father's mistakes, to an extent… And he personally brought her to me."

"It is all as I told you," I said. "The man likes you. He wants to be your friend."

"That is nonsense, Thíri. Who would want to befriend a brooding one like me? I fear no one wants to be reminded of someone's losses when it is time to restore and rebuild."

I sighed, taking his hand in mine.

"And do you think he has known no losses?" I enquired softly.

"But… but we have spent so much time together, and he never speaks of any!" He sounded startled.

"Neither do you, cousin," I pointed out.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around me.

"You are right, cousin. As you always are. One of the wisest young ladies ever."

I chuckled and said, "And this wise lady now begs you to get some sleep."

"What, here?" He sounded rather shocked.

"And why not, I wonder?" I demanded. "I remember sleeping in your bed once. Besides, it does not look like I shall be able to sleep tonight. Come, get your clothes off, it is too dark for me too see anything."

It took some effort to persuade him to do as I suggested; finally, after I swore a solemn oath that the incident will be known only to the two of us, Faramir agreed.

I returned to my chair, sleep gone once and for all. Faramir was asleep, and by the way he breathed, calmly and evenly, I deemed he had no bad dreams.

There was a very quiet creak as the door opened. I turned my head and saw the King, with a candle he was shielding with his hand.

He nodded to me and looked towards Faramir.

"How is he?" he whispered, blowing out the candle and coming over to me.

"Not bad," I answered. "He was very upset when he came, but we talked and it seemed to help."

The King sighed and said, "It is good that he has you here. We talked, too, and I liked it that he seemed to trust me more than usual; but with you, you two being so close, there are no reservations at all. All right, if everything is fine, I shall be going."

"Guards waiting?" I teased.

He just laughed quietly.

"My lord?" I called to him as he was already in the doorway. "Please do not mention to Faramir that you have seen him sleeping here. He will be mortified."

He laughed again and said solemnly, "You have the King's word for that."

_TBC_

_OK, I guess that would be the last but one chapter. Those who are by now furious with me for deviating from the canon in what concerns Denethor, as well as not explaining who that nurse is, can check my story 'Waiting', also posted here._

_My special thanks to **Dimfuin** for the incredible number of reviews! That was a very nice surprise._

_Yours,_

_Lilan_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"You have taken quite a liking to ale," Merry observed, winking at me.

I laughed into the mug I was holding.

"That is all thanks to you, Merry," I said. "Every time I think of ale, other pleasant things spring to mind."

"But it was you who offered the bet!" Merry exclaimed, laughing too. "Still, it is not very feminine, you know. I am beginning to feel guilty. You are the only lady here drinking ale! Next thing you do will be smoking a pipe!"

"And what is wrong with that?" a voice from behind me demanded.

I turned around and saw the King smiling at us.

"My lord," I sprang to my feet, splashing some ale on Merry.

"Peace, Lothíriel," he said dismissively, "I believe all this is quite unnecessary."

"Quite unnecessary," Merry echoed, wiping his face.

"Care for a stroll, Lothíriel?" the King suggested, holding out his hand to me.

Pippin shook his curly head disapprovingly. "Just look at the man… wedded two minutes ago and taking a young and fair unmarried lady for a walk."

Aragorn frowned and called out, "Lord Faramir!"

Faramir had trouble getting to our group, but eventually managed, dragging along Frodo and Sam, who had to cling to their big friend not to get trampled over by the horde of guests. But I had a strongest suspicion that they were simply using every possibility to spend time in my cousin's company.

"What does my King command?" he asked most solemnly, though the corners of his mouth were twitching suspiciously.

"I wonder if there is any room in the dungeons for a couple of those who should know better than to mock a King," Aragorn said.

"Not the younger one, please!" Faramir pleaded, putting his hands on Pippin's shoulders protectively. "For some stupid reason, he is very dear to me."

"I take it the rest of us could easily go to cells," Merry muttered.

We all laughed.

"Have you seen my wife, Faramir?" the King asked.

I smiled silently at the obvious delight in his voice as he uttered the word. I had heard about his long attachment to the Elf lady and was amazed at the power and beauty of the feeling between them. It was not the passion that joined Faramir and Éowyn, or Éomer and me; this was something very deep, strengthened by long wait and trials, and to me, it was simply breathtaking.

I felt a strange compassion towards Arwen, as she seemed to be very lonely in the City. She was so calm and composed, and there still were her brothers and father, but they were to part, for the whole eternity! Other ladies at the court looked rather at a loss as to how to approach her, and usually decided not to try at all; she herself tried to keep a brave face and so far succeeded…

I was brought out of my reverie by Faramir, shaking my shoulder gently. "Cousin? Are you awake?"

I looked at him, startled. "What is it? And where is the King?"

He hugged me, laughing, "Let us get you to your room, Thíri. You are tired and it looks like you have had enough ale for tonight!"

I pushed him away indignantly.

"Are you implying that I am drunk?" I demanded angrily.

He laughed again, pulling me close, and was about to say something, but was stopped by a soft voice asking, "My lord, I hate to interrupt you, but have you seen my husband?"

Faramir jumped to his feet.

"My lady," he bowed.

Arwen smiled at him. "So where is he?"

"Gone searching for you, my lady," Faramir said. "Would you like me to go and find him for you?"

"Oh, no," she shook her head. "Perhaps your cousin could accompany me? We could look for him together."

"Certainly," I said, rising too.

As we left Faramir behind, she took me by the arm and I felt her lean on me heavily.

"Please," she whispered, "can you take me out of here for a moment? I do not feel well. I hate to burden you with this, but it will take some time to find Estel… and my father and brothers will only fuss unnecessarily."

I nodded, sliding my hand beneath her elbow to offer her more support, not attracting unwanted attention. We proceeded to the hallway, Arwen giving occasional smiles to the guests, who appeared too awed or uneasy to offer her anything but a shy bow or an unsure smile.

When I finally managed to get her to the small back garden where I used to come with Éomer, she was literally dragging her feet. I led her to the small bench and we sat there. I became quite worried as I pressed my fingers to her wrist and felt her racing pulse. Her hands were very cold, and I started massaging them gently.

After a while, she was better. I took off my cloak and wrapped it about her. She nodded her gratitude, drawing the collar together.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I was really frightened… nothing like this ever happened to me before. I felt I could not breathe, and I was dizzy… and my legs were like jelly."

"Have you ever felt like this in a crowded room?" I asked. "I have seen it happen when it is too stuffy."

She smiled at me.

"I do not think I ever had been in a stuffy room before I came here. Or in one so crowded."

"Well, I am not sure about Elves," I said hesitantly, "but it can happen to some of us people."

"I am not sure about Elves either!" she laughed. "I have never been ill, not in my entire life! But one has to start some time, right?"

I smiled too, feeling attracted to her in an instant. Whether it was because of her vulnerability, which suddenly brought her down from the pedestal we all had placed her before even seeing her, or because of her ability to jest, a quality I valued very much in anyone; but I knew I liked this Elf.

"I believe I have something for you," she said, taking my hand. "Something to repay your kindness to me. Did you know that we passed Edoras on our way here?"

My heart missed a beat.

"No…I did not," I whispered.

"The King of Rohan wanted you to have this," she said softly, placing a small package in my hand. "In fact," she smiled again, "he spent half a day trying to write you a letter, but then abandoned these attempts, saying he could not tell you anything that you did not already know."

My hands were suddenly damp and weak; I took the package from her and unwrapped it carefully, revealing a silver brooch in the shape of a rose, with green enamel leaves and cream-coloured petals. It looked very new, and suddenly, a scene flashed before my mind's eyes: a flower carried by the wind to a Rider, and an angry Éomer demanding the gift… He must have had it made specially for me…

I swallowed, flooded by warmth and gratitude, and brought the ornament to my cheek, feeling its cold uneven surface.

"Thank you," I said to the Elf, pressing her hand slightly.

She nodded in acknowledgement.

"The Lady Éowyn also sent her greetings," she said. "And there is a letter to your cousin, though that will have to wait a little. Will you believe me if I say I simply forgot all about it?"

I laughed. "Poor Faramir! He probably thinks she abandoned him."

"There you are!" boomed from behind.

Aragorn approached us quickly and took Arwen's hand.

"Are you all right, love?" he asked anxiously, and I almost laughed at his mother-hen tone.

Arwen shot me a warning glance and smiled at her new husband.

"I am fine," she said rising and taking him by the arm. "We had a most interesting conversation with the Lady Lothíriel, hopefully, not the last of such. Shall we return to the guests?"

As I watched them walk away, I felt an arm wrapped around my waist. It was Faramir.

"Sad, is it not?" he said.

"Sad?" I raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought you and the King were friends."

He laughed quietly, "Selfish, am I not? I just envy him, cousin. So do you, I think."

* * *

"Lothi!"

I turned, deliberately slowly, and rose, smiling at him. He rushed to me and clutched me to himself, breathing into my hair.

"Oh, Lothi… how I missed you, my love… I could not wait to see you again…" I could feel his ragged whispers against my head, and then he took my chin and kissed me, first on the lips, very lightly, and then started dropping kisses all over my face, almost feverishly.

When the first storm of his passion was over, I sighed contentedly, pressing my face into his chest. He had one of his hands on the back of my head, stroking it gently.

"Are you coming to Edoras too?" he asked after a moment.

"Do you want me to?" I grinned.

He did not smile, but embraced me even tighter.

"I… I was prepared to beg you if you did not want to," he said. "Lothi, I do not know how I can go through this. They are preparing my uncle's bier, for tomorrow, and I am supposed to be there… but I just cannot. I know it is foolish, but all the time I was back in Rohan, I almost believed that he was just on a visit to Gondor and could be back any moment. And now… now we have to…to…"

He pressed his brow to my head, and finally finished, "To bury him…"

He shuddered. I pulled him carefully to the bench and kissed him.

"Just tell me how I can help you," I whispered.

"If only I knew how!" he moaned miserably. "So many people have told me that I should not keep my grief to myself, that tears would bring me relief… but I cannot weep, Lothi. It feels like there was an enormous weight right here," he brought my hand to his chest, "and it hurts so much!"

"It will pass, believe me," I said, embracing him. "However hard it is to bear now, it will pass. You may not think it likely, but there will come a time when we just sit together in the sun and remember them with a warm smile rather than pain. And we shall tell our children how brave and valiant they were, and how we loved them… and feel a little frustrated as our little ones look bored with the tales…"

He smiled weakly at this, but I continued, "Yes, it will be so… and it will make me glad, for this will show that all these trials are completely in the past."

He kissed the top of my head, sighing.

"We have never talked about children so far. I guess they will be quite interesting, with the two of us for parents."

"We shall see," I chuckled. "Oh… thank you for the wonderful gift you sent me."

He stroked the silver flower, which I was wearing on my breast, with his fingertips, not saying anything.

"How does Éowyn fare?" I asked.

"Oh, my dearest sister is a true ball of fire," he laughed. "I suspect that all her feverish activity in the matters of state was just to keep herself occupied in the absence of your cousin. I cannot complain, though. She has helped me a lot. Does he have the same dreamy and absent look?"

"He does indeed," said Aragorn, emerging form the darkness. Arwen was at his side, grinning at us, and the royal couple was closely followed by Faramir, who sent me a mischievous wink before protesting loudly, "That is entirely untrue! And you should see yourself, by the way!"

Arwen was laughing quietly. "Well done, Faramir. Serves him right."

I smiled, seeing them jesting so freely; the two men had by now become fast friends, and that had done them both loads of good.

"Faramir," Éomer said, "I believe I have a letter for you, from that…hmm…lady who I left behind and who you have so very rashly decided to marry. However, while I do sympathise with you on your choice of bride, I shall be quite content with a brother like you. I only hope you do not mind me in this role."

"He does not," Aragorn declared. "But he already has one, so we must ask him if he wants two."

He clapped Faramir on the back, smiling. My cousin swallowed painfully, struggling to keep his composure. All this talk of brothers was still a very tender area for him.

As he finally raised his eyes to look at the two other men, they were filled with tears, but he smiled and nodded, saying, "I shall be honoured."

* * *

"Thíri, stop doing that or you will fall off," Faramir chided as I rose in the stirrups again, trying to catch sight of the land before us.

"I am quite happy with one father, Faramir," I shot back.

My father gave a choking sound and said, "Better leave her alone, nephew. She will not learn it until she does fall to the ground. And then," he glared at me, "I shall be the last person to help you back on your horse, young lady!"

The solemnity of the riding had gradually worn off, and now I was simply impatient. At first, all were respectfully quiet; then, little by little, they started to talk, and now I could catch an occasional smile or even a burst of laughter as the hobbits teased Gimli the Dwarf for his newly learned riding skills.

Merry was not with them; my little friend was very quiet all the way through, guarding the dead king's arms on the great wain where the body had been placed. He never left the place during the day, and at night, he would make his bed as near to his dead master as possible. For some reason, his grief pained me most; it seemed most unfair that one from such a perfect little country as his Shire should see such cruelties or lose friends to a war.

Arwen rode now with her husband, now with her father and brothers. I knew that these were their last days together, but she looked very peaceful if a little sad. But then, her choice had been made many years, not days, before, and it had been thought over hundreds of times, I guessed.

"We have all grown accustomed to the thought that one day I shall be parted from them," she once said, smiling sadly and picking at the soft grass we were sitting on. I took her hand between mine and squeezed slightly.

"I shall never leave him. I do not regret anything, Lothíriel," she said. "I never shall."

* * *

At the close of the second week of our journey, Éomer rode to us and asked my father's permission to take me with him for a while.

"I do not recall him doing that as they sneaked away by night," I heard Father complain to Faramir, who laughed quietly at his words.

We two rode forward, and Éomer swept his hand over the land before us.

"This is Rohan, Lothi," he said in a soft voice.

I watched a great greyish green plain, stretching as far as my eyes could reach; the rich high grasses moved in waves, whispering softly in the wind and reaching up to the sun; the wind blew hard into my face, like it did back at home, but the smell was different, a lot warmer and sweeter.

I slowly dismounted and sat in the grass, bringing my both hands down to touch it; it was coarse and warm, and, when I clenched my fists, grabbing a handful of grass in each, and then unclenched them, it left faint green marks on my palms.

I looked up at Éomer, pale and tense, breathing hard, as if his entire life depended on the words I was about to utter. I smiled at him and said, thinking of Arwen, "Yes and no."

He knitted his brows at me.

"What do you mean?" he asked sharply.

I smiled again, rising to my feet.

"Yes, I shall be able to live here," I said. "And no, I shall never regret my decision… as long as you love me."

In an instant, he was on the ground and wrapped his arms around me. He did not answer my words; but the thumping of his heart that I could feel even through his mail did it perfectly.

_TBC_

_OK, some of you asked me to make this a bit longer, so I thought, Why not, and added another piece. But the next chapter will be the last._

_Great thanks to all the reviewers!_

_Yours,_

_Lilan_


	18. Chapter 18, The Last One

_The poem belongs to Tolkien, not me! Oh, I know I never write disclaimers, but come on, could anyone take me for the Professor?_

**Chapter 18**

_Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising_

_he rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing._

_Hope he rekindled, and in hope ended;_

_over death, over dread, over doom lifted_

_out of loss, out of life, unto long glory._

It would not be until weeks afterwards that I learned fully what the words of the song meant; meanwhile, I just stood with my eyes closed, listening to mournful, grave voices of the Riders who sang it, riding around the new barrow.

I felt tears trickle slowly down my face and wiped them hastily with my hand; the whole ceremony had not moved me as greatly as this song, the song of finality that completely sealed the fate of the late King of Rohan. I wondered at this, for the song was not a lament as I understood the word; even not knowing the speech of the Rohirrim, I could feel that it did not speak of losses, but of the undying glory of the man now lying under the green of the grass and the white of the little starry flowers; of the glory of all who fell so that we could now begin our hesitant, but joyful way to happiness.

I cast a glance around, taking in the expressions of the rest. I was not the only one to weep; apparently, there was not a person whose eyes were dry. I knew they were not really mourning the King; those who stood before their tear-filled eyes were sons, fathers, and brothers fallen on battlefields; wives and mothers left to guard their houses until they also perished; little children killed or crippled by the war…

I looked down, to the dark spots that were left by my tears falling onto my bosom. I no longer attempted to stem their flow; I did not have anyone to grieve for, but my heart was aching so bitterly that the pain could not be kept inside.

Éowyn stood pressed close to her brother, and her whole slim frame shook with sobs. She had tried very hard to keep her composure, but when the last patch of turf covered the great mound, she took a step forward, looking as if she was in a trance. Éomer caught her arm; she turned to him with a heartbreaking expression on her lovely face, and next moment, she buried her face in his chest, weeping uncontrollably.

Tears were streaming down my beloved's face, too; oh, how I longed to be nearer to him at that moment, to hold him tight and offer him my own shoulder for support; for I felt a thousand times wiser and calmer than I had felt several months before, and I longed to share my newfound strength and calmness with the man who so unexpectedly became almost everything to me. But that was only to be desired; we were not officially trothplighted yet, and to all I was just the daughter of the Prince of Dol Amroth who had suddenly expressed a wish to accompany her father. I sighed and resumed my contemplation of the crowd.

Arwen was standing slightly behind her husband, head bowed, an expression of serenity and sadness on her features. She was very pale; I noticed her hand reaching for Aragorn's and clasping it tightly, and he clasped hers in return in a gesture of loving reassurance. Poor fair Elf-woman, I was certain that the thoughts which occupied her mind were those of the fate to befall her husband; did she picture this same ceremony honouring his passing, and herself standing in front of his burial mound, bowed with grief? That was to happen years and years from the present day, but did they not say that the flow of time was different with Elves? What if to her their happy days together would be but a fleeting moment, to have which she chose to be parted from her entire family?

Aragorn seemed deep in thought, faint tear tracks on his cheeks too. I felt yet another pang of ache; we all tended to see the man as someone unbreakable, always strong and proud, and yet he had known a lot of loneliness, heartache, and even despair. His had probably been the longest and the hardest way of them all.

I pressed my brow to Faramir's arm, and he promptly put it around my waist, pulling me closer. I heard him give a shuddering sigh as he kissed the top of my head and then rested his cheek against my hair. I felt him breathe in and out heavily as he struggled to hold back his tears, but all the efforts were futile. All the hurt and the grief came back to him, made tenfold by the grave beauty of the ceremony which his brother and father had been denied. I was standing very still. Here was one who needed me, more even than Éomer, for Éomer had his sister at his side, both for getting support and for giving some, the latter, to my mind, being just as effective in coping with one's grief.

So I wrapped both arms around Faramir, yet again striving to show him, with my entire being, how truly we were family, and how much I wanted to lessen his pain. I did not care for appearances or protocol or anyone's opinion; whom did it hurt if the Steward of Gondor got this crumb of comfort publicly? Besides, I had learned by then that such lapses were easily overlooked in this country. That relieved me a lot.

When the funeral was over, we stood there awkwardly for some time, and then the gathering slowly turned to go back to the Golden Hall. Faramir loosened his hold on me a bit, not letting go of me, though. I glanced up into his face, and he gave me a tremulous smile amid his tears.

"I love you, little cousin," he whispered, stooping to kiss my brow.

I wanted to say something, but at that moment the four Halflings appeared, three of them comforting my poor friend Merry, who looked absolutely crushed under his grief. Faramir eyed him thoughtfully for a moment, and them gathered him in his arms, picking him up. Merry threw his small arms around my cousin's neck, sobbing bitterly into his chest as Faramir whispered soothingly into his ear, carrying him away with an apologetic glance at me.

I was left with the three hobbits. Together, we stood silent for a while, and then Pippin sighed and said, "Let us go," and started to walk forward.

I put my hands on Frodo and Sam's shoulders, and we followed him.

* * *

_Three years later, in Rohan_

"Oh no, he is doing that again!" Éowyn moaned miserably, putting her hand to her eyes, but taking it away with a jerk immediately, to resume her anxious watch over her family.

They all, including Éomer, were in the back yard, with a two-year-old Elboron seated on an old horse and squeaking with joy, while we watched them from a small terrace, away from anybody's eyes.

Éowyn was deathly pale, and her eyes never left the lively group.

"For goodness' sake, Éowyn, be reasonable," I laughed. "I guess Faramir never tires of teasing you. The shieldmaiden of Rohan is scared to death by the sight of her son on horseback! The poor creature was probably born on the same day as Éomer, it has long forgotten how to rear up!"

She did not say anything, just wiped angrily at her cheeks.

"Éowyn!" I exclaimed in alarm. "Are you all right?"

She shook her head sorrowfully.

"I am sorry, Thíri," she said. "I… I know I have been acting strange these days."

"I rather thought you would be proud to see your son riding," I remarked.

"You wait until my brother does the same with Elfwine," she barked angrily.

I allowed myself a contented smile; my own son was a mere baby, not seven months old, and the dreaded moment seemed ages away.

The aforesaid little prince yawned and turned his head away from my breast, showing that his lunch was over. I handed him to Éowyn and straightened up my dress.

"Well, that is it," I announced. "You can give him back to me now."

"No, please let me hold him a little longer," she pleaded. I noticed that she was weeping again, but did not say anything, presuming that it was because she missed the time when her son could be cradled and protected in her arms like mine…

After a while, she spoke.

"Did you know that some ladies of Gondor sent their children to be raised by a wet-nurse for several years?" she asked.

"Of course," I smiled. "That is why I am so happy here in Rohan. I could not imagine being parted from my baby."

"Neither could I," she said fiercely. "I suppose I gave them all a terrible shock when I announced that I was going to feed my son myself and keep him in my household. But then, Arwen is prepared to do the same, or so I heard. Family ties are very important for Elves, as they do not usually have many children."

"Well, that will shut the gossips' mouths," I concluded cheerfully. "When is the Queen to have her child?"

Éowyn shrugged. "I do not rightly know. In fact, no one does, because in the case of an Elf mother and a human father that is a complicated issue."

"I do feel for her, then. For both of them. The last days are the most difficult to bear, when you await it every minute… All right, _what_ is it, Éowyn?"

She was in tears yet again, cradling Elfwine to her bosom and pressing her free hand to her eyes.

I called for the nurse and gave her the baby, and then gently took Éowyn's hands in mine.

"You can tell me, you know it."

She sobbed a couple of times, then sniffled angrily.

"Oh, Thíri, I am so mad at myself. Everything, just every single trifle is enough to reduce me to tears!"

A great feeling of relief flooded me.

"Éowyn," I said, moving to the floor at her feet, "are you with child again?"

She bit her lip and nodded, smiling hesitantly.

"I am a fool, am I not?" she whispered. "How did you guess?"

I laughed, hugging her. "I was exactly the same in my first months with Elfwine. Éomer was beside himself with worry! Oh, my dear, but this is wonderful! Does Faramir know?"

"No," she shook her head. "I do not know how I should tell him that. He is sure to fret until the delivery! He did with Elboron."

"Now that he has Elboron, it may all be different," I pointed out.

"He worries that he might lavish all his love on the second child, thus leaving Elboron out…" she sighed. "Foolish, do you not think?"

We looked towards the men again. Apparently, Éomer succeeded in making the poor animal change to a light trot instead of walk, and little Elboron was ecstatic. Both our husbands looked foolishly happy, the expressions on their faces matching the child's.

"What do they think they are doing!" Éowyn cried, jumping to her feet. "Faramir! I am going to kill that man."

That announced, she rushed out to the yard.

I pictured my son in Elboron's place and shuddered. Maybe there was some reason in Éowyn's words…

I watched the scene that followed with a smile. Éowyn snatched the boy into her arms and gave Faramir a glance that could kill indeed, along with some words that made him raise his hands in mock surrender. Éomer tried to reason with her, but, upon receiving another deathly stare, preferred to retreat to me.

"Sometimes I think that she overdoes it a bit," he said with unmasked irritation, watching his sister gesture angrily at Faramir. "What has got into her, Lothi? She is not herself. Worrying about that child so… oh my goodness, has she not seen how Faramir was holding his hands ready to catch the little one should anything happen?"

"She is all right, Éomer," I laughed. "She is just expecting another baby. You do remember how strange my acts were when I was carrying our son?"

He shuddered and held me close. "Ugh! Promise you will never be like that again. The people might demand another Queen. Wait… oh, good. Those two seem to have made it up."

Below us, Faramir was embracing both his wife and his son, saying something into Éowyn's ear and laughing quietly. She started laughing too and rested her brow on his shoulder.

"She has told him," we both said at the same time and laughed.

* * *

I crept out after dinner, out into the warm windy night, and sat on the terrace again. I pulled the silver circlet off my head, shaking it and sighing in relief as my hair flew loose on the wind.

"Thíri! Oh, there you are," said Faramir, emerging from the darkness. "Éomer asked me to find you."

"And where is my husband?"

Faramir laughed softly. "Trying to put Elboron to bed, and I pity the man. But then, he wanted it."

"He really loves your son," I said. "Sometimes I think he feels more at ease with him than with his own son. I would not say I am concerned, though, for Elfwine is just a baby, and they have all the time they need to know each other better. They say that not all fathers become such until their children begin to talk…"

He looked at me with an unreadable expression, then laughed softly and pulled me to himself.

"You have become such a wise lady, Thíri. Sometimes much wiser than my wife," he sighed comically.

I laughed. "Do not forget that she is with child… besides, I am a queen, Faramir, and she just a princess."

"Shall we come inside?" he suggested after a while.

I shook my head. "No, cousin, I want to be alone for a bit. I shall be fine. Goodnight, Faramir."

"Goodnight, Thíri," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders and kissing me on the cheek.

When he was gone, I stood alone, staring towards the invisible plains before me, breathing in the warm dusty smell of the grasses.

My journey was also complete.

_I am home. _

THE END

* * *

_Well, that is the end. I am glad that this story brought pleasure to so many of you. It was great reading your kind remarks and knowing that I managed to make someone think, and analyse, and simply feel what I felt. Thank you again, and may your own inspiration match the one you gave me!_

_Yours,_

_Lilan_


End file.
